Crossing The Skies
by birdywings
Summary: Eleanor; The girl with the flame inside. Park; The boy with the tunes echoing off the walls of his head. Cath; The girl with the magic up her sleeve. Levi; The boy with his many smiles. Four people. One story to tell.
1. Prologue: The Beginning Of The End

Prologue

The Beginning Of The End

* * *

_The dreams were gone. The nightmares that had haunted Simon's mind for as long as he could remember were gone. All of them. Every last one of them. Gone. And he had Baz to thank. He he laughed a little at the prospect because it was just a little more than difficult to fathom that his childhood nemesis had grown into his saviour. Simon didn't know if he could even call him a friend at this point. But 'acquaintance' just wasn't enough either. Not after what they'd been through together._

_They dropped to the ground, their heavy limbs sprawled on the earth and their damp hair sticking to the grass with sweat. They were bloodied and dirty and beaten and not worn out so much as worn through. But they had done it. They had made it out. And it was over. All of it. Over. And he still had Baz to thank..._

_"Thanks." Simon let his tongue speak his gratitude before he could regret it._

_"What for?" Baz spat, (literally), but not from disgust so much from the taste of blood that was still clinging to his mouth. He was done with that taste. Done with the thirst for the scarlett fluid. He was tired of being the haunter. He didn't want to be a monster anymore. Not while he still had a say in it. But that was the problem. He never had a say in it to begin with. The curse of a vampire was something that chose him. And it was apparently too fond of him to leave. _

_"For exterminating the evil of the Humdrum of course." His tone was edgy and he suddenly felt irritable. Baz always brought out the worst in him. But this time already felt different than all those other times. This time already felt more real than all those other times. This time was different. This time, Simon was different._

_"I was aiming for you, you arrogant git." Baz snapped. Baz. Always snapping. But he was snapping for whole different reasons this time. Reasons even He didn't yet understand. But he felt them in his cold veins that. They were different reasons. How did he know this? Because for the first time in as far back as he remebered, Baz felt warm inside. And that was what scared him. The truth of what was happening between them. "Of what had been happening between them for awhile now. A truth they both tried so hard to bury. But Baz was tired of the dirt and the shovels. He was tired of burying what he felt. And he could only hope that Simon was too. But that was the thing about hope; it was deceptive._

_"You were not." Simon said, (because he knew it was true)._

_"Careful Snow, that's a dangerous assumption." Baz warned. Because if he got too close, Simon would get hurt. If he got too close, Baz would be too afraid to face what he really wanted. It was funny how he could have the courage to face the Insidious Hundrum in a dual of armed combat and emerge victorious by the blade of the sword he wielded without batting an eyelash but he could face a certain blonde-haired, blue-eyed git. But then again, Baz kept forgetting that it wasn't Simon whom he was scared of. It was he himself whom he feared most._

_"It wasn't an assumption." _

_"Is that a threat?" Baz challenged, and hesitated for a moment in anticipation for his fangs to bare in his anger. But they never did. Because he wasn't angry. He was... Something else._

_"No. That was a promise." His blue eyes were as cold as stone, and Baz knew that He was serious. _

_Simon watched the moonlight settle on Baz's pale complexion where it caressed his his face delicately and softened his features where they were sharp. And it was then that Simon realized that it was what he loved most about Baz, that he could never be dulled like a blade could be over time. He hadn't considered how much he'd studied the plains of Baz's face until that night. The night that was already different from all the rest. And Simon knew. He knew. He knew everything._

_Baz noticed that Simon's blonde hair, though dirty with the blood and sweat now, still glowed in the moonlight. And the deep blue in his eyes looked like stars etched in his skull. And Simon was the falling star that Baz wanted to catch and put in his pocket and save for a rainy day. He was mesmerizing. Baz had never remembered falling this hard or this long or wanting something this much. Or someone as much as he did. But if he didn't know then, he definitely knew now. Baz knew. He knew. He knew everything._

_Simon felt Baz's cheek in his palm before he could pull it away._

_"Simon..."_

_"Basilton..." He said it slowly, every syllable oozing off his tongue with effort because he didn't want the taste of it on his lips to end. And that was the first time he ever called Baz by his whole name. And he, Baz loved it. but it was too much. Simon was too much. they were too much._

_"Don't..."_

_"Shh..." _

_"You'll get hurt you know... I'll hurt you."_

_"Wouldn't be a first..."_

_"And won't be the last..."_

_"Is that a promise?"_

_"No. It's a threat."_

_He felt his eyes closing before he could open them again. And Simon's lips tasted of honey and sweat, and his skin smelled of soap and nothing short of boy. Baz wanted to roll around in Simon and wear him like a tourniquet. He wanted this kiss to be the start of something. _

_Baz tasted of blood and tears, but Simon couldn't help thinking of it as all the years wasted apart washing away with the nightmares. He wanted the taste of Baz's mouth to be the last flavour he fell asleep with on his tongue and the first thing he tasted in the morning. He pale skin was oily and slick but still smooth. The skin was still his, and underneath it he was still Baz. And Simon wanted to leave a mark on every inch of it._

_Baz pulled away when he couldn't catch his breath, but didn't go far. He would never go far. Not again. Not now. Not ever._

_"Just promise me one thing," He whispered, their lips still touching._

_"What's that?"_

_"Just," He paused, not to search for the right words so much as for dramatic effect. Because he didn't need to search for the right words. They were always on his lips, waiting to be spoken. The right words for the right moment. And this was it. "Carry on."_

_Simon's lips bent into a smile and Baz felt it. And he knew. They knew that this smile was not the end of something, but the start._


	2. Chapter 1: Let Go

1

Let Go

* * *

With a trembling hand, Cath's finger hovered over the computer mouse.  
She took a deep breath, which only sent tremors through her body. She clenched and un-clenched her hands several times before placing her finger over the mouse once more.  
Her blue eyes stung with tears after focusing on the bright computer screen displayed before her form the past several hours.  
She couldn't bring herself to look away. Not even as her finger slowly inched its way down to the button, each descent counting down the final seconds of Cath's life's work over the past two and a half years.

She could do this.  
No problem at all.  
She could carry on.  
She could let it go.  
Let it all go.  
She could do this.

Cath immediately drew her hand back and began to rub her sweaty palms along her jeans when she applied even the slightest of pressure to the button on the mouse.  
It had been a few weeks since the conclusion of the spring semester.  
A few weeks since Cath officially became a sophomore.  
A few weeks since _Simon Snow and The Eighth Dance_ was released in bookstores all across the world.  
A few weeks since Cath's lifelong passion came to its end.  
A few weeks since Cath had finally typed up her final chapter to Carry On Simon.  
A few weeks since Cath had first laid a hand on the mouse to allow Simon Snow to carry on for good.

But she couldn't do it.  
Cath couldn't just let the one part of her life that seemed to make sense end with one last word and just the simple click of a button.  
Simon deserved so much more than that.  
But Cath had already decided his fate, along with everyone else within the world of Mages. Cath wanted to be proud of herself. She gave Simon and Baz the ending Gemma T. Leslie never could, (with a little input from Wren of course).  
This final chapter was her masterpiece. But it also meant the end of Simon.

Was Cath ready to let go? Was she prepared to accept the end? Was she capable of carrying on without Simon and Baz holding her hands?

Maybe she was. Maybe she wasn't. But the time was now. And whether or not Cath was done procrastinating and holding onto the past, it was time.  
She had kept her fans waiting long enough. She had withheld the final words of Simon Snow for too long now.  
It was time.

"Are you going to do the honours or shall I?"

Cath felt her eyes roll back into their sockets and glared at Wren, who was propped up on the bed and filing her nails behind her, through her reflection in the laptop screen.

"I just need a moment." Cath responded through gritted teeth.

Wren shrugged and returned her attentention to her task at hand.

"Can you not get fingernail shavings all over our room?" Cath asked, rubbing the drowsiness from her eyes.

"I can do it over your pillow if you'd like. Will that help take your mind off Snow for a bit?"

"Not in a good way."

Wren jumped to her feet and onto Cath's bed whereupon she filed all ten of her nails down to the nubs, leaving the shavings to litter the sheets and pillow. It it was only when she was sweaty and out of breath that she stepped down and joined her sister at the laptop screen.

"Feel better?" She asked Cath.

"What I feel is both disgusted and violated."

"Well, neither of those emotions include Simon Snow so It must have worked."

But Cath didn't feel better. She just couldn't possibly get any worse at this point.

She blew a strand of her long brown hair from her face and pulled it back into a bun before scooting forward until she sat on the edge of her desk chair. Because that's where she was, on the edge of her seat. On the edge period. She tentatively lay a wavering hand on the mouse and treated the device with caution, as if it might explode any second. Or maybe Cath would before it even got the chance.  
Her eyes fell closed as she took in a deep breath.

_Okay Simon, _She thought._ Five more seconds of the past.  
_

_Five._

Her grip tightened slightly on the mouse.

_Four._

She felt a hand enclose her own, giving it a squeeze that was firm with confidence, and she didn't have to open her eyes to know that it was Wren.

"We'll do this together." Wren whispered.

Cath was going to nod. Cath would have nodded if only there was anything left of her to nod.

_Three._

Slowly and evenly, they applied pressure with their every breath.

_Two._

Cath took one last breath and didn't release it. She didn't think she'd ever be able to catch any air again.

_One._

Her eyes flicked open and before her sitting on her desk was her laptop displaying her completed story on the screen but all she could see through The lenses of her purple glasses were Simon Snow's fingers entwined with Tyrannus Basilton Pitch's.


	3. Chapter 2: Carry On

**Hey everyone!**

**So, I love Rainbow Rowell. I love Fangirl. And I am IN love with Eleanor &amp; Park.  
I think enough has been said but, if you need further explanation, please enjoy this little piece of inspiration that I was hit with to write a crossover between the two wonderful novels written by the glorious author herself:)**

**Reviews and feedback are always appreciated and it really means a lot to me to hear from you all:)  
More to come!**

**-birdywings**

* * *

2

Carry On

A tremor ran through her body.  
It began from the very pit of her heart and extended to her stomach, giving her this sinking feeling of dread before finally reaching the tips of her fingers and toes.  
Her hands were shaking. Her breaths rapid and quivering on both the inhale and exhale.  
She was a bundle of molecules crawling all up and down her skin with nerves.  
She was out of control.

She lay her hands on the dashboard of her father's car in attempts to disguise the tremble vibrating through her veins, but it only served to emphasize her wavering as it seemed to seep from her skin and into the smooth surface of the control panel.  
Her dark eyes look past her faint reflection in the window as they skim along the concrete below before coming to rest on the one-story concrete building waiting only a thin line of glass away. Its grey walls and clear windows gaze down upon her, making her feel as small and as invisible as she wishes to be. The array of black bold letters bore through her as they assemble the words; Barnes &amp; Noble.

She closed her eyes and tried to imagine herself in another world.  
A world without concrete walls to cage her in.  
A world without glass to suffocate her.  
A world where she may breathe freely and spread her wings without the fear of trying.  
A world with the Watford School of Magiks and the band of Mages.  
A world with vampires and magicians.  
A world with magic hares to nab and the Insidious Humdrum to defeat.  
A world with Simon and Baz.

Cath Avery sighed as she pressed her forehead to the passenger window, the glass cool beneath her skin.  
_Oh Simon, what have I gotten myself into?_

She felt a brawny hand rest on her shoulder, the muscles tense in the arm. "Don't sweat it Cath," Her father spoke to her, trying to reassure her. Although even he sounded more nervous than she as he tried to hide the waver in his voice, revealing to Cath the nerves he too was experiencing. "You'll do great."

Cath turned to her father and lost herself to his sad grey eyes that held years of life experience, both good and bad.  
Mostly bad though.  
Her features twisted into her attempt at a small smile but the expression came out as more of a grimace. Although, given her current state, the grimace was more appropriate.

She leaned over and planted a kiss on her father's cheek, getting more stubble prickling at her lips rather than smooth skin. "See you later." She told him, her voice small and barely above a whisper.

He smiled at her and gave her shoulder one last pat as she climbed out of the car with her heart leaping in her chest and up her throat, causing her to choke on her goodbye and so she was left with only a simple wave at her disposal. However, Cath Avery has leaned that over the years, sometimes, even the smallest of gestures can have more of an impact on people and the world rather than the words that pass through our lips.

"And Cath?" Her feet shifted against the cool pavement, turning her to glance back at her father. "Don't forget to smile." He said, his own grin growing a little at the edges.

She offered him the expression in return, the crease in her lips a little more full than her previous attempt as he sped away, the engine spewing a cloud of exhaust from the rear as the rubber of the tires screeched against the road, leaving marks in its wake.

With a heavy sigh, she swiveled to once again face the concrete walls, glass windows and bold letters.  
She ran her fingers through her hair, verifying that her bun of thick brown hair was secure and would remain that way. She tugged at the hem of her shirt, frowning down at the plain turquoise it was colored.  
Cath wished she had on one of her many Simon Snow shirts that she bought from book sales or author signings, but her sister Wren had other ideas.

_"You can't wear that on your first day Cath, you have to look professional!" She had told her as she snatched the T-shirt bloody with red and colored with Simon's picture from the cover of the Mage's Heir._

_"There! plain and simple." Wren had spoken as she marveled at her work on her sister._

_"And boring." Cath had muttered under her breath._

_"Nonsense!" Wren scoffed. "You look great! Now all we have to do is work on that smile and BOOM! You, Cath Avery, have landed yourself a permanent job at Barnes &amp; Noble."_

Thinking about that shirt now, Cath yearned to have it on now with Simon's picture plastered to her chest, the red familiar to her eyes as she wore him close to her heart where she felt him most. Right in the very center of her being where all the life that flows through her originates from.

_Okay Cath, _She thought, shaking her head vigorously. _If Simon Snow can carry on, so can you._

And without another thought of protest to herself, Cath walked briskly with a rigid body to the glass doors that will cage her in like a bird that will never be granted the opportunity to spread its wings and soar on the winds of the world.

She stumbled on the way in, tripping over her feet before halting in the doorway. She felt her mouth fall open, her chin tickling at her neck as she stood there, eyes wide and glassy in awe as they skimmed the many shelves displayed throughout the large, spacious room, each one caressing row after row of precious books and reading material. Cath could only imagine the glorious feeling of holding so many novels, each carrying their own entire world within them. A world free from reality. An escape. A _veil. _Every word was like another sheet that Cath wore, wrapping herself in the invisible fabric to disappear from unwanted eyes.

Her eyes fell shut as she listened for the sweet sound of pages being turned, the sound like music to her ears as it filled Cath in her very soul. It was her fuel. Her song. She inhaled deeply, drinking in the scent of books-each with their own kind, ranging from paint to antique stores, and even spaghetti-combined with the aroma of coffee wafting through the air from the Starbucks booth sitting in the corner with a line of customers looping all the way around the maze of shelves.

She sighed. Seeing the familiar hot beverage and logo called the image of Levi to her mind. _Levi._  
With a heavy heart, she studied his every feature in her memory of him lingering beneath the dark shadows of her eyelids.  
His long neck, his crown of blonde, floppy hair, and his perfectly straight white teeth revealed to her in the perfectly dazzling smile that Levi has made his own.  
Levi. Levi and his smiles. Levi and Cath.  
Levi gone.

She had told him that she would visit him at his family's ranch nestled in Arnold this summer when they said their goodbyes on the last day of the spring semester. But as mentioned before; Sometimes, gestures had more of an impact on life than our words ever would.  
Visiting Levi and meeting his family was just another task in life that Cath just wasn't prepared to accomplish quite yet, and so she would procrastinate upon it for as long as she could. That is, until Levi asked her again, and once more, she would give him the same answer she had given him the day she arrived home in Omaha; "I'd love to, but I'm pretty booked for the summer at the moment. I'll try to make it as soon as I can."

Cath would cringe at her words. At her lies. But of course, Levi could see right through them. Although he did not say so, but Cath could just feel it. Like a sixth sense. He could read her like a book. Or listen to her like one of his lectures-however you want to phrase it.

It had been a week since Cath and Wren arrived home. The clock was ticking by, and Cath was dreading the conclusion of her limited days.  
She wanted to see Levi. She wanted to visit him and tie herself up in his arms. But apparently not enough to overcome her anxieties. Besides, Levi's mother would not approve of Cath. Deep down, she knew that. She knew of it like she knew the sky was blue and vast. Out there was foreign and frightening, but Levi. Levi was familiar and she was sure of him. They fit together like the pieces to a puzzle. His arm around her hips, drawing her into him from the waist. Her fingers tracing his jawline, memorizing every muscle of him. Their lips locked, pressing against each other until they couldn't get any closer no matter how much they tried to, leaving just barely enough room between them for breathing space.

Her shoulders sagged, her body slumping where she stood.  
Levi and his a thousand smiles could wait.  
At least until Cath could stop shaking.

"Hello!" A bright and cheery voice spoke, startling Cath as the shrill sound drew her from her thoughts. "Can I help you?"

Cath's eyes flicked open to find a young man-not that much older than her-with short dark hair curling over at the top of his head and creamy dark skin. He outstretched his hand to her, his smile dazzling and bright but not quite Leviean as his dark eyes shined at her, the light flickering above them giving off an ember glow to them

"I'm Jonas." He paused, the corners of his mouth turned up even as his eyebrows drew into his forehead, and it wasn't until several minutes had passed that Cath realized he was waiting for her to introduce herself.

"Oh, um, Cath." She stuttered as she shook his hand twice.

"Oh! You're the new addition to the staff!" He exclaimed. "Why didn't you say something?" He released her hand and led her by the shoulders through a grey door labeled, 'Staff Room'.

And before Cath Avery knew it, she was dragged into another world. A world of grey and glass. Of stone and bold letters.  
It was another world, just as she had asked for.  
But it was none she wanted to enter.

* * *

**P.S. Forgive me if I got any details wrong with Cath's, Levi's or her father's appearance. I have only read Fangirl once and it has admittedly been awhile. I plan on rereading both Fangirl and Eleanor &amp; Park as soon as I can to refresh my memory of both these beautiful works of art. But please, if I have made an error on the character of this book, do not hesitate to tell me and I will fix it to the best of my ability:)**


	4. Chapter 3: All That Remains

3

All That Remains

A smile tugged at Cath's lips as her ears listened for the confetti of bubbles popping in the pain, the oil hot with the heat the element provides beneath it. The sound reminded her of kernels bursting into fluffy, light pieces of popcorn heating in the microwave. Almost like a million tap dancers stamping through her kitchen until the machine beeps, announcing the end of the dance.  
Cath laughed in spite of herself as she lost herself to the sizzling of egg against the oil boiling with the heat and the greasy aroma of food frying against aluminum. The sweet smell wafted through the air and filled her lungs as she breathed it in, drinking in the scent.

It wasn't quite her desktop with her back resting comfortably against the cushion of her desk chair and her fingers jabbing at the familiar keyboard that was grey with age as her eyes trained on the bright screen, watching as row after row of words were formed by a combination of letters that held not only a story, but a whole other world within them as her entire body relaxed into the routine. But it sufficed.  
It would have to.  
For now.

Cath glanced up from her task as she heard the clicking of heels against the linoleum floor enter the room, and she found that attached to those heels, was her sister Wren.  
She flashed Cath a smile of gleaming white teeth as she hopped upon the counter and kicked her hot pink pumps off in the process, revealing to Cath the glossy pink coating her toenails.

"So how'd it go?" Wren asked, nudging Cath's shoulder with her own.

Cath felt her shoulders lift, then drop after a second.

"Come on Cath!" Wren pressed, digging her shoulder into Cath's now. "Give me some details, or at least more than one word."

She shrugged again, her eyes flicking up at her sister briefly as she answered with, "It was fine."

Wren frowned at her, deepening the crease in between her eyebrows.

"That was three." Cath spoke, a smirk unraveling in her features.

Wren scoffed, trying to hide the grin fighting its way onto her face. "Fine, be that way." She shoved lightly at Cath as she brushed by her to reach into the cabinet for some plates.

Cath's hands were quick and efficient as she tossed several ingredients into the pan, decorating the omelette in progress green with onions and pink with minced slices of ham.  
The dish was so familiar to the muscles beneath her skin that her body had learned to whip it up with a mind of its own.

"Seriously though, what happened?" Wren asked as she arranged the plates and cutlery upon the counter. "Did you get fired? Because I swear, if they fired you after only one day I'm gonna-"

"I didn't get fired Wren." Cath replied, her tone colored with exasperation.

Having a sibling was hard.  
Having a sister was even harder.  
Especially if their mouth possessed a mind of its own and never ran out of things to say.

"It was just fine, nothing special. I mean, it's a job. They're not supposed to be exciting." She said as she flipped the omelette onto a plate with a spatula in hand before returning to the stove and whipping up another.

"I strongly disagree. Everyone should have a job that they enjoy, otherwise, what is the point? I mean, you're going to be stuck doing it for the rest of your life, so you may as well choose something you love." Wren said, waving her sister's words off as she snatched a fork and dug into her meal, the fluffy egg warming her stomach on the way down and leaving behind the stench of onion on her breath, leaving Cath to get a whiff of it as she spoke. "Besides, we all need a little excitement in our lives don't we?"

Cath, at a loss for words, only offered her sister a shrug before returning her attention to the omelette crying out to her as it sizzled in the pan. She watched the bubbles pop one by one as the shade of the egg slowly melted into a golden yellow, whereupon she plucked the spatula from its position on the counter and tossed the omelette onto a plate, the colorof it like the sun in the early hours of the morning.

"So," Wren spoke through a mouthful of food as Cath leaned back against the counter opposite her, inching her fork through the egg. "Jandro and I are going dancing tomorrow night, you should come."

"Thanks, but no thanks. Dancing isn't really my thing."

Wren placed a hand on her chest and gasped in mock surprise, "Really? But Cath, I never took you as the shut-in and antisocial type!"

Cath scoffed indignantely as she elbowed her sister who dodged the advance easily, her short brown hair, which was only a shade darker than Cath's, fell over her eyes.

"I am not antisocial. I do have some friends thank you very much."

"Virtual friends don't count."

"I have Reagen..."

"Hmm, I don't think it can be classified as friends, so much as that she puts up with you." Wren said, her voice teasing.

She took Cath's empty plate from her hands and skipped across the kitchen where she dumped the dishes in the sink and turned on the tap. The running water filled the room as she began to wash the dishes, her eyes skimming the edge of the sink for the sponge.

"Seriously though," She called to Cath over her shoulder. "You should come."

Cath's lips pinched into a thin, pink line. "I'll think about it. Although to be honest, a date with Simon Snow is sounding more interesting than a night of watching you and Jandro glisten with sweat as you break down on the dance floor."

"Well, excuse me, but if dancing isn't your thing than what do you call emergency dance parties?" Wren retorted over the running faucet andclattering of dishes.

"An emergency." Was all Cath could answer with.

"Hey, speaking of Simon, you feel up to a marathon? I had like six cups of coffee earlier and I'm gonna be up all night." Wren asked after a moment.

"Six?"

"Hey, no judging. Let me tell you, it isn't easy to keep your eyes open all day when you're stuck behind a desk knee-deep in paperwork and caged in by glass as you deal with customers, acting as a receptionist while providing 'Service with a smile'. She spoke the last sentence with an obvious hint of annoyance.

"Whatever happened to choosing an occupation you love?" Cath muttered just loud enough for her sister to hear and whirl around with water dripping from her hands as soap bubbles flew everywhere, some even getting caught in Cath's hair. The twins giggled and squealed with laughter as they flung clouds of soap at each other.

Yes, having a sister is hard. Hell, having a family is hard.  
But sometimes, in those rare moments, when laughter bubbles within you both as you share a laugh over something that would seem absolutely ludicrous to the naked eye or as you chase each other with soap-covered hands dripping with water, it makes it all worthwhile.  
The good, the bad, and everything in between.  
It is all worth every moment.

* * *

The phone rang, its seven-note tune playing throughout the house, causing the two sisters to halt in their tracks, their hands freezing in mid-air as they stared at the phone, listening to its ringtone play relentlessly before the caller ID appeared on the screen, displaying Levi's name.

Cath's palms ran cold as Wren swivels to face her, her dark eyes holding within in them a mischievous glint as her eyebrows arced upwards.  
With a leap to cover the distance, Wren made a dive for the phone with Cath on her heels, their footsteps padding against the floor as they lunged and battled it out for the device.

"Wren! Give me that!" Cath grunted as she struggled to snatch the phone from her sister's hands.

"Hello? Why hello Levi!" Wren spoke into the phone as she shoved at Cath's face with her free hand, her smooth palm tickling Cath's nose. "Yes, this is Cath speaking."

Cath could feel the ball rising in her throat, the groan of frustration hanging on the edge of her lips and she was about to set it loose when she heard Levi speak on the other end, his voice light and colored with ease, "Nice try Wren. Can you put Cath on now?"

She smiled at his words, incapable of containing her grin as Wren huffed in disappointment, parting a few strands of her thick brown hair with her breath, "Dang, almost had you."

"Not quite." Cath could just feel Levi's smile on the other end, the sense almost as clear as the image of his mouthful of dazzling white teeth.  
The tug in his lips was just as much as hers as it was his.

A sigh passed through Wren's lips as she spoke, "Okay, fine. See you GingerSnap."

A laugh tickled the inside of Cath's throat at the nickname. Wren had bestowed it upon Levi after consuming her first Gingerbread latte whipped up by his long, narrow fingers.  
It was now his second name.

"Hey." Cath breathed into the phone when Wren handed it to her, her voice smaller than she wanted it to be as her breath tickled at her chin.

"Hello Cather," Levi's voice clear voice sang through. "Nice to hear your voice again."

Cath felt the blush tinting her cheeks a soft pink and she was suddenly very glad for the distance between them.  
Her voice had abandoned her for the moment, leaving her only to nod, the cool receiver brushing against her ear, even though Levi's blue eyes couldn't see her reply.

"So, listen-"

"Levi, let me stop you there," Cath blurted, her voice surprising her, and she climbed up the stairs and shuffled down the hall to her bedroom before either of them could speak another word.

The room was dark with the sliver of the last of the daylight leaking through the crack in her blinds hanging at the window with a musty smell hanging in the air, like wet plaster. Cath tiptoed across the room, her toes digging into the rough carpet, as if she feared making a sound to shatter the blissful silence of the room.  
She flopped onto her bed, the mattress squeaking beneath her as she sighed into the phone, wishing that she was closer to him. That there was no gap separating them, at least for the moment as her lungs craved to breathe Levi's air once more, pumping his mocha tinged breath in and out of her body.

"I know what you're going to say Levi," Her lips moved, allowing the words to spew from inside her before she could register what she was saying. "And, the truth is, I can't."

"You can't what Cather?" He asked, his voice lost and searching for hers.

"Visit you." She flinched at her words, feeling the pang of guilt stab her in the pit of her stomach.

Seconds ticked by before he said anything, and they were the longest seconds of Cath's life as she dreaded what he had to respond with. But she only heard his light laugh on the other end, the sound filling her ears, and although she wanted to relish the melody of it, she could only stare blankly at the Baz poster taped to the pale wall opposite her. His fangs bared and blood-stained, and although he stood frozen alone with purple painting the scene behind him, all she could see was Simon standing at his side, their hands full with each other's hands as their palms dominated one another's with their fingers laced.

"That wasn't what I was going to mention at all!" Levi spoke, his voice still crawling with laughter.  
Cath could tell he was relieved, and it was only then that it dawned on her that he probably got the impression she wanted to break up with him, and her teeth dug into her lip with remorse for her poor choice of words.

Levi may not realize it, but Cath does.  
She knows that if either of them were to terminate their relationship, Cath would not be the one to end things.  
It wasn't that she wasn't brave enough to let go.  
She didn't _want_ to let go.

"I mean yes, I was going to bring up the whole idea of visiting us at the ranch," He said, burning through his words.  
Cath felt a smile in her lips. It was nice to hear his voice to.

She had forgotten how much she missed it.  
How could she possibly forget? Hearing it now, it was as if listening to your favorite song, its lyrics whispering the story it held hidden in the notes to you. It made her feel warm inside, like warm honey was oozing down her throat and trickling into her stomach with the beat pulsing through her veins.  
It made her feel alive.

"But I was going to say that you don't have to come if you don't want to."

Her smile faltered. "What? Do you not want me to?" She asked, working hard to keep her voice from wavering.

"No, no, no. Of course I want you here Cath," She heaved a long sigh of relief, feeling her shoulders fall with her breath. "I just thought that if it really makes you uncomfortable, meeting my family and all, then it can wait."

Tentatively, she asked, "How long?"

"As long as you need."  
She could feel his smile as her mind wondered which on he wore.  
He had a million of them.

She nodded against the phone, the movement tilting her glasses, which angled her view of the world.  
"Okay," She whispered. "I'll see you soon?"

"Of course, I'll hitchike to your house to see you if I have to."  
She laughed.  
Levi, always putting a smile on her face.

"Seriously, I'll pack my possessions up in one of those little cloths and attach it to a staff. I would cross the skies for you Cath."

She felt the honey spill into her heart, warming her from the center as she yearned to say it back. But her voice wouldn't cooperate, and so she only nodded, leaving them in a moment of silence, his breath against her ear as she listened to his lungs rise and fall. She focused on the rhythm until her breaths fell into sync with his, their lungs filling and draining with one another.  
Cath smiled, enjoying the quiet.  
Words are silver, but silence is golden.

"Okay, I have to go." She whispered into the mouthpiece, her voice speaking before she could think better of it.

"Okay, I'll see you, and Cather?"

She paused, awaiting his words.  
His song.

"I love you."

In those three words, the honey pooled in her heart erupted into a flame, igniting her from the inside while her features melted into a smile.  
"And I you."

* * *

The stairs creaked beneath her as Cath made her way downstairs, the song of her conversation with Levi still playing through her head.

"Hey, still up?" She asked Wren who sat buried under a soft, fluffy brown blanket with the television remote sitting in her palm, those pink pumps abandoned for a pair of black slippers with the symbol of Batman embroidered over the toes.

"Heck yeah, are we doing this marathon or what?" She answered, her face lit and her eyes glowing with the light from the TV.

Cath smiled and skipped down the stairs to join her sister.

The good, the bad, and everything in between.  
Moments like these are what make it all worthwhile.

Maybe there was no more Watford or band of Mages anymore.  
Maybe the world of Simon and Baz had come to its end at last.  
Or maybe she could still hold on.  
But for now, this was all that remained for Cath Avery.


	5. Chapter 4: Within The Lyrics

**Thanks for the reviews everyone!**

**Sorry this update took awhile, but I was away over the weekend.****  
****And unfortunately I won't be updating again for about a month as I will be away in Europe from August 24th to September 12th where I will sadly not have any access to the internet, or at least no time for any writing. But dear readers, I will be back, I promise!:) I am really excited to write this story as I have a a lot planned that I really want to get right as I love these characters dearly. Especially Eleanor and Park as that is my favorite novel of all time and their relationship is just so realistic and perfect yet imperfect it's just such a beautiful novel:,)**

**Anyway, let me know your thoughts if you can, I love the feedback guys:)****  
****Oh and just so you're all aware, if I am correct, Eleanor and Park would be 44 years old in this story so that is the age I will make them:) Levi and Cath are still the ages they are in Fangirl:)**

**Till September!:)**

**-birdywings**

* * *

4

Within The Lyrics

* * *

Park's nostrils flared when stung with the scent of mocha that entered the space the moment the bell hanging by the entrance chimed, making the air thick with its aroma.  
His green eyes glanced up from the array of comics neatly arranged in a box that he was leafing through-the most recent delivery of new inventory-to narrow in on the tall, long and lanky figure stepping foot in the door. He was so tall that his head of blond just barely slipped under the door frame, leaving a few blond strands to skim the entryway.  
Park couldn't help the roll in his orbs as the green disappeared in his head for only a moment before returning to his task at hand, and he rifled through the collection, his eyes skimming over title after title as his ears listened to the creaking of floorboards under the gait of his newest customer.

His gaze would flick up every now and then to watch as the guy weaved in and out of aisle after aisle lined with shelves displaying everything from Batman to the X-Men, and then, when he had scanned through that section of the shop, he moved onto shuffling down the aisles lined with shelves caressing plastic CD cases, containing everything from AC/DC to Queen.  
The only music those shelves didn't contain were the tunes she loved.  
The ones they listened to together.  
The one they shared like secrets.  
The ones they trusted each other with.  
The ones she bestowed upon him like a gift.

He could never sell those songs.  
It would be like playing their playlist for the entire world to listen to.  
Like publishing the story they wrote in print for everyone to read.  
Like divulging the secret of their love that they unspokenly promised to remain concealed within its plastic case.

He held her like a secret in his heart.  
A tune on constant replay within the walls of his mind.  
A heartbeat pulsing through his palm and coursing through his veins.

She was everywhere, yet nowhere, and even still, somewhere.  
And so, he'd stop trying to bring her back.  
She only came back when she felt like it, in dreams and lies and broken-down deja vu.  
Like, he'd be driving to work, and he'd see a girl with red hair standing on the corner-and he'd swear, for half a chocking moment, that it was her.  
Then he'd see that the girl's hair was more blond than red.  
And that she was holding a cigarette... And wearing a Sex Pistols T-shirt.  
Eleanor hated the Sex Pistols.  
Eleanor...

Standing behind him until he turned his head.  
Lying next to him just before he woke up.  
Making everyone else seem drabber and flatter and never good enough.  
Eleanor ruining everything.  
Eleanor gone.

He'd stop trying to bring her back.

Park's eyes followed the guy as he shuffled across the room and plucked the set of headphones from their hook by the speakers before sliding them onto his ears and selecting a song.  
As Park's hands moved and shifted to pack away the latest arrival of issues, his mind worked to guess which song on the Aerosmith album the guy's head bobbed to as it played through the headphones and into his head.  
Park often played that little game with himself. It was one of the many activities he used to get through the day.  
As a distraction.  
And to keep his mind from wandering to her.

He set the box down on the counter behind him while absentmindedly deciding to sort through its contents later, before sinking down onto a wooden stool at the cash register as he flipped through a Watchmen issue.

"Excuse me?"

Park glanced up, his eyebrows inching their way up his forehead as his green orbs peaked out from the top of the page.

"Do you have any Joy Division albums?" The guy asked, his blue eyes glinting in the dim golden glow of the bulb dangling over their heads.

Park felt his hand inch its way across his ribs and come to rest on his chest, just over his heart, and he focused hard on its beats to keep from flinching away from the young man's words.  
Everything reminded him of her.

He couldn't seem to find his voice and so he merely shrugged his hunched shoulders in reply while forcing his hand from his heart and back down to his side, but he quickly found it would not remain there and so he grasped the corner of the page, working hard not to clutch the delicate material to avoid wrinkling it.

Park could see the pinch in the guy's lips as he nodded slowly, his brow furrowing.

"Okay," He said. "Well, I'll just leave you my name and number and you can contact me if you're expecting to get anything in stock anytime soon." His pressed lips faded into a grin, a lazy one with the corners turned up in ease.

Park shrugged again as he reached behind him and pulled open a drawer where he found a stray sticky note page and a pen before sliding the objects across the counter, and he found his eyes following the guy's hand as it slid across the paper yellow with age, his script light and fluid.

"I'm Levi." He told Park with his hand extended over the counter between them.

"Park." He grunted without glancing up as he shook his hand twice rather roughly.

"Okay well, thanks Park." Levi called over his shoulder as he stepped through the door and out of Park's mind.  
Because that was what that shop was for him, his mind and every thought that passed through.

She was hidden in everything.  
In the words written on the page.  
In the lyrics hiding in the music.  
Always lingering in the back of his mind, even when he tried to forget.  
She was never far from his thoughts.

He'd stop trying to bring her back.  
But sometimes, he didn't need to.


	6. Chapter 5: Stay Gold

**Hey guys!**

**Sorry this chapter took awhile, but as I said, I was away in Europe for a month.  
Anywho, I really hope you guys like this chapter and try to tell other people about this story if you can, I would really really appreciate it!:)**

**Please enjoy and let me know what you think!:)  
Oh and I made a mistake guys, Eleanor and Park should actually be forty-two in this story because I forgot that Fangirl concluded with the start of summer 2012.**

**-birdywings**

* * *

5

Stay Gold

Eleanor could feel the heat rising in the large red splotches dotting her neck under the gaze of the blue orbs that scanned the room.  
All around her was the commotion of chatter and the shuffling of feet and scraping of chairs against the floor as her fellow staff members milled about the staff lounge, conversing with one another before settling down for their meal.

It seemed impossible to Eleanor that there could be all this noise, yet the only sound that managed to reach her ears was the pounding of her heart within her chest.  
She sucked in a deep breath while her hands fiddled with each other and tried to refrain from trembling.

She could just imagine the same uneasiness the newbie standing in the corner of the room was feeling.  
She could feel the tremors running through her hands.  
She could hear the pounding of her heart everywhere.  
She could feel the pressure of her eyes darted around the room for an available seat with that nervous and wild look to them.

She experienced it all.  
And it all brought her back.  
A flash from the past.  
A glimpse of what was.

It all came back to her.  
That one vision reopened countless old wounds of lies and broken promises.  
It all brought her back twenty-six years in that one breath.  
In that one beat.  
In that one blink.

She remembered climbing onto the bus for the first time.  
She remembered standing in the isle while the demons of the bus pushed past her, each one filing down the path until they reached their seats.  
She remembered all the shouting and hollering that erupted from the back of the bus.  
She remembered feeling the weight of Tina's smirk as she observed her from the opposite end of the bus, waiting for the tears that stung Eleanor's brown eyes to spill down her face.  
She remembered her cruel expression and how she could just envision Tina's tongue skimming her crooked bleach-white teeth while her devil tail swished in circles behind her. You could practically see the steam puffing out of her flared nostrils and the slight twitch of delight in the arced horns sitting atop her head of golden locks.  
Even after all that time, Eleanor could still feel the nervous energy pulsing through her hands now that she felt that day on the bus.

But even through everything else, she still remembered him.  
The first time she saw his eyes. So green they were almost yellow.  
The first time she saw his face, his skin. Although she hadn't noticed it that day, she remembered it now. The faint halo of gold the sun cast against his honey skin through the glass. It was there. She remembered it. Because he was the sun, and that was the only way she could think to explain it.  
The fist words he spoke to her. His voice was still so clear in her mind. It was the music that she remembered when she missed him most, (which was everyday). It was the song he gifted her with.  
She held him like a secret in her heart, tucked away within it beats.

Eleanor was drawn back from the past by the shuffling of the newbie's footsteps around the room as she poked her head around the room, the nervous blue in her eyes searching for a vacant seat among the occupied tables.  
She couldn't help it.  
Eleanor felt her eyes flick up and come to rest on the newest addition to the Barnes &amp; Noble staff.

She was young. Probably no more than a college student. Freshman?  
Her brown hair was knotted into a loose bun on the crown of her head, and Eleanor's eyes followed the stray strands of brown as they fell around her neck. Her blue eyes were shielded by a pair of purple glasses that slid down the bridge of her nose, and Eleanor didn't need to take more than a single glance at the spectacles to guess that they were not only for the aid of her sight, but for protection as well. Like armor. Like a veil. Like a _mask_.  
The way she stood, with her shoulders hunched and her head hanging low between them while her hands fiddled at her sides and tugged at the hem of her shirt, failing to disguise the tremble in them.  
She looked close to tears. But also, a little pathetic.  
Still, Eleanor couldn't help but feel a knot of sympathy form in her stomach for her. Because she too remembered how it felt to want to be invisible.  
To want to disappear.

_Oh, what the hell. _She thought a split second before her dark eyes disappeared into their sockets.

"Jesus-fuck," Park spoke through Eleanor's lips just under her breath and just loud enough for the newbie to hear.

Spectacle's head whipped up at her words, her shaking hands now more noticeable than a moment ago as she stared at her, her orbs wary and nervous with her pink lips slightly parted.

"Just sit down."

And so, Cath Avery did.  
She scooted the empty chair out from under the table, careful not to make any noise in the process for fear of attracting the attention of the countless pairs of eyes around her.  
She plopped down in the plastic chair, her held breath slowly deflating from her mouth as she tried to hide her relief. But it was evident to Eleanor. Even if she couldn't see it, she could feel it.  
Spectacles kept the brown paper bag containing her meal of a soggy tuna sandwich, a protein bar and an apple juice box in her lap even when Eleanor drew her lunch closer to her, making room for Newbie.

She didn't say anything.  
Thank God she didn't thank her.  
Eleanor just wasn't in the mood for talking.  
She set her fruit salad down on the table and planted her hands on the armrests connected to her chair. She let her head hang back against the chair-which was much to small for her-and stared up at the ceiling fan sending a light breeze her way from above her head while she waited for a world of suck to hit the fan.

* * *

The tears started rolling before Cath could blink them back.  
A sob rose up in her throat and she was too late to catch it before it escaped, but she clamped a hand over her mouth anyway in an attempt to muffle the horrible and piercing cry.  
It was like nails on a chalkboard to Eleanor's ears.  
Maybe she wouldn't hear her...

Of course she would. Cath sounded like a cat being drowned and strangled simultaneously.  
But still, Eleanor didn't speak a word.

When Cath had finally reduced her sobs to silent tears, she left only the sound of hers and Eleanor's hands tearing the covers of unsold books from their spines.  
It was a bloodbath.  
With every precious book came the jarring sound of ripping pages, followed by a shower of their shreds to tumble to the floor below.  
She couldn't handle it.  
What kind of person could do this?  
What kind of monster _would_ do this?  
She was a murder.  
The mangled books held the evidence.  
She had the blood of books on her hands.

Cath stifled another sob as she ripped through a copy of _The Ousiders._  
The words rang in her ears.  
_Stay gold Ponyboy. Stay gold._

She tugged on the sleeve of her grey cardigan and used the end of it to wipe her tears away.  
That's when she felt a book slip into her open palm dangling at her side.

She whirled around to find Eleanor's hand extended out to her with another copy of _The Outsiders._  
Cath stared at the book, open-mouthed with no words to spill from her lips, and before Eleanor could change her mind, Cath grabbed the novel and shoved it into the pocket of her cardigan.  
Eleanor then returned to her task, her dark eyes not even revealing a hint of what had just occurred.

Maybe Cath couldn't fly behind the glass and within the concrete walls.  
But maybe. Just maybe. She could, at the very least, spread her wings.

* * *

**P.S. I just finished Eleanor &amp; Park for the fourth time, (Such a beautiful novel guys:'), God I love it! Anyway yeah, so I am almost completely refreshed, I am just brushing up on Fangirl now so yay!:)**

**More to come soon! Hope you all enjoyed! Oh and I just posted a prologue to this story so go check it out when you can!;)**


	7. Chapter 6: Come & Go

6

Come &amp; Go

Letters, postcards, yellow padded packages that rattled in her hands. None of them opened, none of the read.  
It was bad when the letters came everyday. It was worse when they stopped.  
Sometimes she laid them out on the carpet like tarot cards, like Wonka bars, and wondered whether it was too late.

Of course it was too late.  
She hadn't spoken so much as called him since the night she left.  
Since the last time she saw him, his green-yellow eyes and his honey skin.  
Since the last time she ever laid eyes on the sun.  
Since she told him goodbye for what she knew would be the last time.  
But that was all twenty-six years ago.

They were different people back then.  
Yet at the same time, they were still Eleanor and Park.

Eleanor set the box containing all that was left of him on the carpeted floor and slid it into her closet.  
She didn't have the strength to throw any of him away.  
Partly because she still missed him and saw him every time she heard Joy Division or Aerosmith playing. But mostly because she figured he was already sick of her by now, and if that was the truth, than she couldn't let go without holding onto what was left of them in her life.

Because Park wasn't a boyfriend, he was a champion.  
And they weren't going to break up. Or get bored. Or drift apart. (They weren't going to become another stupid high school romance.) They were just going to stop.  
And even if Park wasn't sick of her by now, Eleanor figured he probably hated her at this point. That he despised her for leaving him without so much as a word for all those months before finally sending him nothing but a postcard with only three words scrawled across the white stationary.

She still remembered that day.  
The day she wanted to believe even for just five seconds that there was something more than just what life gave you.  
For the one moment, she wanted to believe there was something as impossible as hope.  
For her mom.  
For Maisie.  
For Ben.  
For Mouse.  
For Little Richie.  
Even for herself.  
But most of all, for Park.  
For them.  
For what and all that they were.  
For them and the future.

In that one moment all those years ago, she let herself believe in hope.  
In possibility.  
In the small sliver of chance that she would see him again, even if it was only long enough for her to tell him she was sorry.  
She left him with only three words because it was all she had left to spare.  
It was all she could give him now, (which was fairly pathetic considering he saved her life).  
She could never repay him.  
But she was his, and he was hers.

To have and to hold. Not forever-maybe not forever, for sure-and not figuratively. But literally. And now. Now he was hers and she was his.  
And she wouldn't want it any other any.

Writing that postcard all those years ago, Eleanor let all everything that happened in that one year wash over her in those three words.  
All that he gave her.  
All that they did.  
Everything they were together.  
It had all come pouring out of her and onto the stationary.  
Those three words were all that had been left of her.

Maybe there was a chance and maybe there wasn't.  
But Eleanor wasn't holding her breath anytime soon.  
She wasn't holding onto anything but the words she left him with.  
Nothing but the lies and broken promises they had made.

But even so...  
As Eleanor sat slumped against the back of her creaky desk chair, she couldn't help but allow her dark eyes to drift to the pale, half-opened closet door all the while wondering in some forgotten part of her mind whether it was too late.

* * *

Eleanor's nostrils stung with the stench of the black trash bag she lugged over her shoulder.  
She kicked at the heavy door, chipping away at the fading green it was painted, with the toe of her converse and stepped out into the alleyway where the dumpsters sat between Barnes &amp; Noble and the brick structure of the pizzeria next door.

She lifted the lid to the grey, creaky dumpster and shoved the trash bag in, slamming the lid closed.  
Eleanor then took a few steps down the alley until she could just see the parking lot peeking around the corner when she leaned on the cement building.  
She took a whiff of the air, trying to clear her senses of the pungent odor of rotting garbage while she watched the people come and go from the bookstore.

Somewhere in the midst of the mostly-vacant parking lot, a blue book donation bin for children's charity caught Eleanor's eye.  
She couldn't fathom why their manager didn't just donate all their unsold books rather than tear them to shreds in the backroom. It was a terrible and despicable waste of literature if you asked Eleanor. And it was then that she vowed to smuggle the crates of unsold books over to the donation bin whenever she got the chance. Cath would help her. She seemed like the honest and generous type. Plus Eleanor was fairly certain that Cath was at least a little terrified of her. And how could she blame her? The first words Eleanor uttered to Cath were curses after all.

Still, she trusted that she could count on her for the help.  
Eleanor laughed in spite of herself, and allowed a smile to take shape in her lips even for only a moment.  
They could be like Batman and Robin. Fighting the crimes against innocent books and protecting them from those whose hands were dirty with the evidence.

Taking one last inhalation of sweet, fresh air, Eleanor spun on the heel of her yellow converse, kicking gravel up as she did, and turned to go. Only to whirl back around to face the parking lot when her gaze locked and focused on the woman with long, wavy brown hair cascading down her back as she flipped it over her shoulder.  
She had curves to her hips that had flattened out over the years under the grey pantsuit she wore. In her hand she held a paper Starbucks coffee cup and in the other, a leather case. She had a round face and a hard, mean stare to her brown eyes. And the sight of them caused Eleanor's heart to halt mid-beat while her breathing ceased.  
Because the last time she saw those eyes was twenty-six years ago.  
When the woman-who now began to cross the parking lot to reach her vehicle-was no more than eight years of age.

Eleanor stood there open-mouthed, watching the woman enter her car and speed away, leaving Eleanor in the dust with years worth of words hanging on the edge of her lips.  
But Eleanor understood.  
Because, of all people, she was the one who knew very well that people come and go.  
And seeing that woman, made Eleanor wonder for the third time that day whether it was too late.

* * *

**Hi guys!**

**Sorry this chapter took awhile, I really didn't consider how difficult it would be to write three stories at once:P But I am not giving up on any one of them I promise! I absolutely love writing and posting each and every one of my fanfics!:)**

**Okay, a special thank you goes out to the wonderful riversong and fantastic freezeon98 for their amazing reviews! Thanks guys! They mean a lot!:)  
And to riversong; Believe me, you are definitely not the only one who has a major crush on ParkXD He is my one true fiction-boyfriend, aside from Augustus Waters, and Four and a bunch of other guys from moviesXD So yeah, there is no shame in being a crazed and probably perverted fangirl over here!:) I am proud to admit my weird and quirky obsessions!**

**Okay, hoped you all liked this chapter, more to come soon! And does anyone want to guess who the woman that Eleanor saw was?:) Leave your answer in the reviews!**

**-birdywings**


	8. Chapter 7: Sleepwalker

**Hey everyone!**

**Sorry for the late updates, life is just crazy right now and this chapter is probably the longest I have written out of all my stories, so YAY! NEW RECORD!:)  
I want to dedicate this chapter to all my reviewers. Especially freezeon98, who has posted their thoughts every single chapter and to riversong for being with me since the very beginning of this little story of mine:) THANK YOU GUYS! YOU ARE ALL AMAZING!**

**And to rriversong; yes, you are correct! The woman Eleanor saw was her sister Maisie:)**

**Hope you enjoy and please post your thoughts for this chapter if you can! I love the feedback everyone:)  
-birdywings**

* * *

7

Sleepwalker

She only came back when she felt like it.  
In lies, broken-down deja vu, and especially dreams.

He saw her now.  
Her hair caught fire at dawn. All flames and red streaks of curls that spiralled around her neck.  
The freckles gathered on her shoulders like cream rising to the top and spilling over the rim.  
She looked like a vision there, a mermaid. Cool white in the darkness.

The sight of her. She was still glowing on the inside of his eyelids.  
Still lingering where she lay beneath the shadows.  
She didn't look peaceful, but more _at_ peace.  
As if she were more comfortable out of her shirt than in it.  
Like she was happy inside out.

Eleanor...  
He would never get enough of her.

Park didn't even stir until the telephone rang for the third time.

A mumbled groan emerged from his lips as he groggily propped himself upright at the end of the sofa. (Not that you could really call it a sofa). But more of an article of garbage that he plucked off the curb because it was as forgotten and broken and empty and pathetic as Park was when no one else wanted such a dirty, battered old piece of furniture. (Not that you could even call it furniture). Much less a couch.

He dragged himself to his feet, his limbs heavy and his senses foggy with sleep, and stumbled across the room to retrieve the phone, which was practically ringing itself off the hook.  
He answered the phone with heavy eyelids that cut his view of the pale green wall ahead of him in half and with a throaty 'hello', which was answered with the wail of an air horn.

"Jesus," Park mumbled under his breath as he yanked the phone away from his ear. "What the hell?"

"Hey brother! Were you asleep? You sound like you were sleeping."

"Josh?" Park demanded, blinking and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Duh, who else would have the audacity to greet you with an air horn?" Josh's husky voice emanated from the other end.

"Someone who isn't standing within throttling distance from me." Park muttered.

"Yeah, anyway. Wakey, wakey Sleepyhead!" Josh sang through the line.

"Josh, I swear to God," Park sighed. "You better tell me what the hell you're calling for or I will beat your sorry ass."

"Well, hello to you too Park. Jesus, it's not like you NEVER call."

Park found himself cringing with guilt at his brother's words, because even though Josh was a pain in the ass most of the time, what he spoke was all too true. He felt his teeth digging into his lower lip, biting back his anger.  
"Sorry," He mumbled. "What is it Josh?"

"You forgot didn't you?"

"Forgot what?"

Josh sighed on the other end and Park felt it vibrate through into his skull. "I can't believe that you forgot!"

"Well, maybe you could quit gloating about it and give me a little refresher already?" Park snapped, his guilt quickly draining.

"Hello Park? Is your head still in the clouds?! Mom's birthday is today!"

Park's hand ran through his hair, combing through the dark strands. "Shit." He spoke under his breath. "Shit, shit shit."

"Yeah, and you were supposed to be here an hour ago with a cake." Josh droned on, and Park could just imagine him glancing at his watch with a smug little grin plastered to his face, because not for the first time, (and certainly not for the last), between the two of them, Josh wasn't the son who screwed up this time around.

"Shit, has Dad said anything?"

"No. He and Mom are too busy entertaining Susan and the kids."

"Okay, okay. I can be there in thirty minutes or so..." Park said as he shuffled down the hall and dug around in his room for a less-than-clean, but decent-enough shirt before slipping it on.

"Don't forget the cake."

"Shit. An hour then. Can you keep them busy for an hour?"

"Alright, but you owe me." Park could practically hear his brother's grin.

"Ugh, fine. I'll give you a ten percent discount at the store." He bargained.

"No chance. I'm family, a discount is a given."

"Fine then, I will babysit Nolan and Jazz free of charge for a _month._"

"Nah, sorry. Mom and Dad already beat you to it."

"Seriously? Can you not cut me a little slack here?" Park groaned as he hopped to pull his jeans on.

"Okay, okay. twenty-five percent discount, final offer."

"Deal."

"Good. Now get your ass in gear, Dad is giving me the eye of suspicion over here."

_"Hey! No cuss dirty mouth." _Park could hear his mom say on the other end, and he could just imagine her thumping Josh as high on the back of his head of dark brown hair as she could reach with a smile tugging at his lips.

With that, Park dodged his way through his one-bedroom apartment.  
He yanked is shoes on and laced them up at the door before snatching his car keys from the kitchen counter and hanging up without saying goodbye.

* * *

"Shit."

From the cushion of the passenger's seat and through the crimson that colored its cardboard box, Park could feel the heat rising in his cheeks under the pressure of the cake's glare as the words scrawled across the dessert bore through him. A constant reminder of what they wrote in their purple icing.

_"Mindy. M-I-N-D-Y?"_

_"No, M-I-N D-A-E." Park spelled through clenched teeth, biting and swallowing back his frustration._

_But despite his efforts to choke it back and tuck it away in the pit of his stomach, he could feel the anger reveal itself when his hands furled into fists at his sides. He unfurled them, digging his teeth into his lip again while his eyes followed the pattern of the woman's hands as they hovered and moved across the circular vanilla cake, scrawling 'Happy Birthday Mindy' over the blue frosting with the plastic bag of purple icing she caressed._

_"No. M-I-N D-A-E." Park told her again._

_"Yeah, yeah. I think I know how to spell Mindy dude." She spoke without lifting her eyes from the dessert, and even as she began drawing the Y on._

_"Okay, you know what? Just forget it. Just freaking forget it." Park mumbled as he slapped the twenty-dollar bill onto the counter.  
With a shrug, the woman packed the cake away in a box and slid it across the counter to him before shoving the money into the register._

He dug his teeth into his lip now when he took a right and pulled into his parents' driveway.  
He hadn't visited in at least a year.  
He was pretty sure he hadn't even called since Christmas, much less wrote them-who even writes anymore? Like, _actual, literal_, _handwritten, pieces-of-paper-you-stick-in-an-envelop, _letters anymore? Nowadays it was all emails and web-chat on that thingy-ma-jig that Park will never get the hang of, called the internet. And people didn't even write online anymore, it mostly texting on cell phones now.  
Josh used his cell phone all the time. Park could hardly remember a single minute during one of his not-so-frequent visits when Josh didn't have his face buried in that thing. To be honest, Park was surprised his brother hadn't gone blind yet after staring at that bright screen for hours on end. Park had also asked Josh, (seriously asked), why he hadn't glued the device to his ass yet if he was going to be on it all the freaking time.  
Josh had tried to coax Park into buying one, but advanced technology and Park just didn't agree with each other. Unless it had something to do with music. Park could always find music where there was the possibility of it.

Now, he unbuckled his seat belt and plucked the cake from the passenger's seat.  
He had to stop at the bottom of the front stoop, right at the edge of the steps, and again at the door before ringing the bell.  
He took a deep breath, held it for a minute-maybe two-before jabbing the doorbell with his thumb.

"Park." Susan said with a smile as she enveloped him in a hug before the front door was even a quater of the way open. (His sister-in-law was quite the hugger). It kind of reminded Park of high school, when their guidance counselor, Ms. Dunne, gave out hugs the way a drug dealer might sell drugs. (Minus the free of charge part).

"How are you? We've been waiting so long that we'd thought you'd lost your way." Susan informed him with a chuckle as she tugged him through the doorway before shutting it behind them and guiding him down the hall then through to the living room, where he was met with a chorus of his name.

"Yeah, sorry to keep you all waiting. Happy Birthday Mom." He said as his mother approached him with open-arms and a smile in her coral lipstick-coated lips.

"Ah! You too skinny Park," His mom said, concern coloring her tone, as she took a step back to look him over. "You eat okay?"

"Aw, Mindy, leave him alone. He just got here." His dad spoke, weaving his massive shoulders around Park's mom to clap his son on the back. "Was the drive okay?"

"Yeah, well enough." Park said with a shrug.

The next thing Park knew, two little bundles of energy came barreling down the hall and into his arms, and before he could step back, brace himself or even process what was about to happen, the wind was knocked from Park's lungs as he was tackled in an embrace by his niece and nephew to the carpeted floor.

"Park, Park Park! Guess what? Guess what?" They chirped in unison.

"I'm all ears." Park said as he pulled himself upright beneath their weight.  
At the age of seven, Nolan was already built like a boulder and tall enough to tag the monkey-bars at a playground without even having to jump. He looked so much like Josh did when he was young that it was like a blast from the past for Park-except for the fact that Nolan had blue eyes, (Susan's eyes), instead of Josh's green eyes.  
At ten years of age, Jazz had a river of golden hair flowing down her back, which kind made her look like Rapunzel. (Punzie was her nickname). She had Josh's eyes but Susan's nose.  
Park forgot how light her hair was, and how dark Nolan's was. He had forgotten the exact shade of their eyes along with the fact that they looked nothing unlike unless you really studied their features. He even forgot their completely different personalities, and how much they could argue and squabble with each other.  
He didn't spend nearly enough time with them.  
It occurred to Park that the next time he saw his niece and nephew, Nolan would be bigger than him and Jazz wouldn't even want to have anything to do with her own uncle anymore.

"I lost another tooth!" Nolan sang and gave Park a wide, gummy grin.

"I painted you a picture in art class yesterday!" Jazz spoke up.

"Wow Jazz, that is really beautiful! I suppose I'll have to hang it up as soon as I get back home. And did the Tooth Fairy come for a visit yet?"

"Uh huh," Nolan nodded, the light bright in his young blue eyes while Jazz beamed up at her uncle. "She left me two dollars, look, look!"

Park felt the slight weight of a few coins slip into his hand, which brought the attention of his gaze down to where a pile of coins lay in a heap upon his cradled palm.  
"Well, would you look at that. And what are you planning to buy with your treasure Champ?"

Nolan shrugged, sweeping the money from Park's hands and into his own. "Don't know yet. Mom says I should save it, but I want to buy a bunch of candy!" With his last word, the child extended his arms into the air for emphasis.

"That's exactly why she said you should save it Dummy! You already had three cavities, you don't need more!"

"Jazz, please don't call your brother a dummy." Josh spoke from the kitchen where he and Susan arranged the plates and utensils on the table and began to slice the cake. "And by the way Park, nice job on the icing." He added with only a hint of the grin he was hiding.

Park flashed him a glare before turning his attention back to the kids.

"You should do whatever you please, it's your money," Park ruffled a hand through his nephew's thick, dark hair. "But remember, spend it wisely. And watch out for the Sugar Monster!"  
Park then triggered a fit of laughter to emerge from the young children's mouths as he tickled their stomachs all up and down the sides until it ached.

Park had always envisioned himself with kids way back when, and he was good with them too when he wanted to be.  
But he couldn't have any now.  
He couldn't have any of what his brother had.  
Aside from the fact that he was too old now and it was too late, he just wouldn't be able to take care of a family.  
How could take care of a whole family when he couldn't even take care of himself?  
How could he provide for them and keep the air pumping in and out of their lungs and the blood flowing through their veins?  
How could he save their lives if he couldn't even save his own?  
At this point, was his life even worth saving?

Park didn't know.  
He couldn't tell anymore.  
He didn't know.  
And he wasn't sure he wanted to.

* * *

"I've got the dishes." Park said mostly to the floor after everyone had gobbled up their cake, and mostly because he still felt guilty about not visiting or calling enough like he should.

He began stacking the plates in the sink when his dad replied with, "Well, they're not going to wash themselves," and then, "I'll dry."

Park used to hold his breath when in the presence of his dad.  
Not out of fear or nerves, but for whatever he had to say next.  
He and his dad had always had a rough relationship growing up.  
Park always thought it was because his dad wanted Park to be more like him-a decorated veteran with a little dainty China person tucked away in his flak jacket and more guts than Park ever had that he carried on his massive shoulders.  
But over the years, as Park grew older and experienced life, he learned that even though his dad didn't always agree with him on certain things or even approve of most of Park's decisions, (The Great Incident Of The Eyeliner being one of the highlights on the long and ever-growing list of things Park did that his dad didn't approve of or agree with), his dad always had the family's best interests at heart.  
In his own way and with his own methods, his dad was just trying to do what was best for everyone He only wanted the best for everyone.  
He was Billy Jack, a warrior and a wise-man.

"How are you Park?" His dad asked now as he grasped a towel from its hook and swept up the tear of water the plate bled.

"Fine. Okay I guess." Park mumbled, focusing too hard on the dishes he scrubbed at.

"Business good?"

"Yeah. Well, a little slow during the week but it usually picks up by the weekends."

"You look like you've been working too hard."

"Just missing out on a few hours of sleep." Park said with a shrug.

"Maybe you should think about hiring some extra hands, even out the shifts at the store."

"Nah, I'm okay."

Park's hands froze when his dad reached across the sink and shut off the faucet of running water.  
He slapped the towel gently on the counter and turned his gaze on his son.

"Listen Park, we're worried about you. All of us," He waved a hand through the air, gesturing to those who were playing a game of Monopoly in the next room. "Especially your mom."

Park shrunk back at his dad's words, cringing away from the guilt.  
What had he become since she erased herself from his life? Since she became nothing but a smudge of a postcard with three simple, but powerful words scrawled across the pale stationary.  
He became empty.  
Withered.  
Broken.  
Nothing but a hollow shell.  
Nothing but a ghost that phased right through life and everything and everyone around him, letting everything moment wash over him.  
It now dawned on Park that he was still sleepwalking in the past.

"We're aware we can't force you to visit or call or even write when we want to know how you're doing, and even then, when we ask you in person, we still don't know how you're _really_ doing. We know you're not the kid you once were anymore. But it would really mean a lot if you could, at least, for the love of God, call more. We love you Park and we want to be apart of you life," Park absorbed his dad's words but stared off into space instead of looking him in the eye, watching his dad's hand rub nervously at the tension in his neck while he spoke.  
"But if you're going to push us away and retreat inside yourself, can you please just hire someone for Christ's sake? Just so we at least know you have _someone _around, even if it's a complete stranger, and that you're letting _someone_ in."

That's when Park-though still floating through the abyss and void of space-felt himself being enveloped and folded into his dad's arms. Into his dad's embrace.  
Park felt the tension stiffen his body for a moment and then, he felt himself relax into his dad's arms.  
It had been a long time since Park had felt this safe while inside the little cocoon that their arms created around each other.  
It had been longer than he could remember since he felt this protected, not from life, but from himself.

He dad pulled away after a minute, luring Park back from the edge of the abyss, and flipped the faucet back on.  
Without another word to pass between them, they continued to wash and dry the stack of dirty dishes sitting in the water that had pooled in the sink in the silence that followed Park's dad's words.

* * *

HELP WANTED, the sign read in red bold letters. The words melted through him, washing right over him in a ripple so small he couldn't even process either their words or their meaning.

_Help...  
_Park didn't need help.  
He didn't _want_ help.  
What he needed was to remember.  
To remember her and all the many other miracles she was made of.  
To remember the sound of her voice and not the sound of her sobs she cried on the day their paths divided.  
To remember the way she looked with her torn jeans and button-down shirts from the men's section of the store with the silk scarves tied and knotted around her wrists. All dressed up like the sad and beautiful hobo-clown she was.  
He needed to remember. To remember without the pain and the gaping hole growing and the gasping loss of her.

He needed to remember.  
He wanted to remember what it was like to be young and in love with comics.  
With music.  
With Eleanor.  
He wanted to remember Eleanor.

Park tossed the sign with the large, red bold letters into the waste basket behind the cashier counter and picked up the phone, dialing the last number he expected.  
"Hey, Levi was it? It's Park. Anyway, I was just wondering... How would you feel about getting a job?"

* * *

He shut the door behind him, causing the glass to rattle in the display window before jamming the key into the lock and securing the store for the night.  
Park shoved his hands into the pocket of his hoodie, enclosing his fists around the brass key before making his way down the sidewalk, and he hadn't even gone two steps before the woman spoke from behind him with a voice he could never erase his memory of, "Park?"


	9. Chapter 8: Between The Lines

**Hey everyone!**

**Thank you to riversong for the awesome review! They really mean a lot and I am so happy that you are enjoying this story:)****  
****As for advice on getting started here as a fellow fanfiction writer; DO NOT BE AFRAID:) believe me, I was so scared to share my work with everyone here at faanfiction . net. But I realized that you just gotta do things that frighten you in life sometimes, because otherwise, how are you ever going to be able to jump the hurdles that will be placed in your path every once in awhile?:)****  
****So, rule #1: DO NOT BE AFRAID:)**

**Rule #2: Be open to reviewer's suggestions:) it's both really inspiring and enlightening to see what other ideas fellow fans have or what suggestions they may make to your writing:) listening to, absorbing and applying the advice you receive can really help shape one's writing. It gives you more experience and maybe it may even help improve your writing.**

**Rule #3: Don't take flames! Everyone has a right to their opinion of course, but so do you! If you don't like the things someone may have to say about your story then ignore them! What I love most about writing is that it's YOUR world in YOUR hands and only YOU, and YOU alone decides what you make of your story:)**

**Rule #4: DO NOT, repeat, DO NOT be so hard on yourself! I cannot tell you how many times I have weaved my very own ideas for books that I want to get published, but everytime I even come close to typing anything out, I allow my big fat head to get in the way, which then prevents me from even getting a word down on the paper.****  
****So yes, you do want to reflect on your work but remember: when it comes to writing, we are our own worst enemies because we always, ALWAYS expect so much more out of ourselves. Plus, after you have jotted down a few stories and the more you write, the easier it will get to share your work:)**

**Rule #5: HAVE FUN! Let your imagination run WILD!**

**So again,****  
****#1: Don't be afraid!****  
****#2: Be open!-listen and observe!:)****  
****#3: Don't put up with the haters!****  
****#4: Don't take it so seriously and do not be so hard on yourself! Writing should be a fun, transformative process!****  
****#5: Have fun! Set your mind free and take your readers on a journey!**

**I hope this helps!:)****  
****Oh, ad let me know when you do get an account because I would love to read your stories!:)**

**Hope you all like this chapter, and please leave a review if you can because they really help:)**

**-birdywings**

**P.S. I am thinking about writing the Carry On Simon story... any interest? Thoughts? Let me know!:)**

* * *

8

Between The Lines

There was a boy sitting outside her house.

Even from the backseat of her dad's Honda civic, Cath could easily spot the golden head of Levi sitting upon his long neck, which was attached to the rest of his long, lanky frame while he leaned with his whole body against the burgundy that painted their front door.  
(Levi, always leaning).  
She could see the outline of his jaw and his golden face perfectly; all finely drawn lines, ruled and pencil. And in between those lines was Levi.  
Her long, lanky, towering, mocha-scented, thousand smiles, beautiful Levi.  
Cath could feel the pull of him in her stomach, (because everything Levi happened in her stomach), and it was so hard that she had to resist the gnawing urge to sprint the last few steps to climb their front stoop an into his long arms.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, her face tight and her voice three pitches too high.  
God, even just from looking at him she had no control over herself.  
She had to disguise the cringe at her tone of voice.

"Well, it's nice to see you too Cather." He replied with one of his many abundant smiles as he pushed himself onto his feet and enveloped Cath in a warm and familiar embrace against his long, lanky body.

"No, er, I just meant that I'm surprised to see you." She mumbled into his chest, her words muffled against his flannel shirt, yet she refused to pull away. Especially once she caught a whiff of him again. The scent of him all mocha with a hint of fertilizer.

He laughed and she felt it on her temple. "I'm teasing Cather. How are you?"

"Okay. Were you working on the ranch today?"

"Yeah, I apologize for the unpleasant odor of fertilizer with what perhaps might very well be cattle manure. Forgive me Cather, but I did not have a chance to freshen up before I left."

"You didn't get the chance or you didn't want to take the chance?"

"The latter is more likely. What can I say Cather? I couldn't wait to see you any longer. The wait would have been most excruciating to endure."  
And she, Cath laughed.  
She couldn't help it.

"Lieutenant Starbuck." Wren said with a salute of her hand when she walked past the couple o her way into the house.

"Good to see you too Wren." Levi said, also with a salute but a wider grin engraved in his lips.

"Levi, good to see you again." Cath's dad greeted him with an extended hand.

Levi slid his palm and fingers into her dad's and shook it twice. "You too sir." He said, before relieving the man of the plastic white bags of take-out he carried with him.

"Sir," Mr. Avery echoed in awe with a grin on his face. "I tell you Cath, this one's a keeper." He hardly whispered to her over his shoulder as they filed into the entrance.  
Cath was confident that Levi had heard every word.

"So Levi, we just picked up some take-out if you're hungry, taco and Avery-style."

He laughed. "Well, I have to admit, all that driving did work up an appetite."

Wren took a bite of the taco she held in her hands, which cracked and crunched in her mouth as she chewed away, before sliding the container of the food across the counter and saying around a mouthful of food, "Bon appetite."

After dinner and tossing out all the empty styrofoam take-out containers, they all squished on the couch to sit down for yet another one of their Simon Snow marathons.

"So wait, Simon and Basil _aren't _a couple in here?" Their dad asked several times during the film, pointing with a finger at the screen and looking to the three of them for clarification.

"NO!" They all three would shout simultaneously.

"But you girls are always going on about how in love and obsessed they are with each other." Their dad would replay with clasped hands and a bat of his eyelashes.

"That's with _fanfiction_ dad."

"Which is different from the movies?"

"YES!"

"So they're not together in the books?"

"Oh, my God dad, NO!"

Several hours had been spent watching the series of films.  
They had just reached the halfway point of the fifth movie, (also their second-to-last leg of the marathon), when Wren made them shut the film off and retreat upstairs so she could watch and brush-up on the last few reruns of Pretty Little Liars before the second season was released in the fall.

"That's fine, I don't think I'll ever understand that Simon Snow hocus pocus shit anyway," Their dad said, rising from the couch and stretching for a moment before heading for bed with a yawn.

"Not too late." Cath called after him, stifling a yawn.

He flashed her a grin that was heavy with sleep at the edges if his lips and in the corners of his eyes, and whispered back before shutting his bedroom door behind him. "As the parent, isn't it my job to tell you that?"

Cath climbed the stairs up to hers and Wren's bedroom with Levi following close behind.  
She could feel hi mocha-scented breath on her skin while his fingers entwined themselves into her hair of brown that was tied back in a ponytail.

She stopped in front of her doorway, staring down the little 'Do Not Disturb, Magicians At Work' sign with the image of a wand casting a sprinkle of stars across the stationary that she and Wren still had dangling from the doorknob.  
She spun on her heel, turning on Levi with a finger jabbed in his face, and speaking in the most stern tone she could possibly muster while staring into his eyes of clear, endless and mesmerizing blue, "No laughing this time, promise?"  
He held his hands up in surrender and placed a pair of fingers at the corner of his lips before sliding them across, zipping his mouth closed into a smile.

She shook her head at him, endeavoring to hide the smile pulling at her lips.  
He was unbelievable.

Cath placed her hand on the knob and inhaled deeply before opening the thin panel of a barricade that stood between the world and Cath's world.  
She could practically feel Levi's smile behind her. She could just see his lips spreading from ear to ear as he skimmed their bedroom where dozens upon dozens of Simon Snow posters and sketches were plastered to the walls and pale ceiling that hung above them.

"Shut up." Cath muttered while fighting the tug in her lips.

"I didn't say anything!" Levi argued in defense, stifling the laughter that had bubbled up in his stomach.

A sigh deflated from Cath's lips before she strode across the room and gently perched herself at the head of her bed. She lay a hand at the end of the mattress and patted the tangle and knot of sheets that lay beneath her, motioning for Levi to sit when he didn't join her right away.  
With a red-tinted face, Levi puffed his cheeks out and looked directly into her blue eyes, causing the heat boil up in her stomach under his gaze.

His lips moved slightly, mouthing the words 'I'm sorry', and not even a second washed over them before he burst into a fit of laughter.

"Cath, I thought I warned you to lay off the Simon, you know how it disagrees with your stomach. I mean just look at this room!" He said, tossing his arms up at the ceiling and in between his laughter. "The evidence is all over it!"

Cath could only manage a roll of her eyes at him with a flick of her hand, gesturing for him to carry on and get it out of his system. Because if she were to open her mouth right now, she would probably just start laughing right along with him. Not because she thought this was funny, but because Levi was magic.  
He had this infectious signature charm that was difficult _not_ to catch and fall victim to.  
He lit up the room.  
He was the brightest thing there was.  
He was magic.  
And she had fallen under his spell.

When Levi finally managed to regain his composure, Cath scooted over on the bed and felt his arms snake their way around her middle, tying themselves around her as he pulled her into him and wrapped her into a cocoon composed of his own body.  
She could feel his every breath enter and leave his body with the rises and falls of his chest beneath the flannel.  
Cath took a shaky breath, feeling Levi's hands skim her skin until they found hers lying in her lap and interlaced his fingers with hers. Her eyelids dipped slightly when he began to rub continuous circles on the inside of her palm with his thumb, and he felt every single muscle in her back relax into his chest one by one.

Is was too dim in the room.  
Too quiet and heavy with the silence of night that it made it easy to fall into sleep right then and there in Levi's too-soft and too-warm arms.

"Cather?"

"Hmm?" She answered in a mumble with eyes that were just barely halfway open.

"Read me some fanfiction."

Her eyes opened then, and she swivled in his arms stare into the blue that painted his eyes. "Now?"

"Yes." He said with a grin of dazzling white teeth that sent Cath's stomach all up in knots.

"Okay," She said, reaching at the end of her bed for her laptop. "Any requests?"

"Carry On Simon," Levi answered from behind her, and she could tell that his eyes were already closed while his ears prepared to absorb and drink in her every word. "You still haven't read me that one yet."

Cath felt the red tint her cheeks as she woke her laptop up with a swipe of the mouse and pulled up fanfixx . net "Are you sure? It's kind of-..."

Cath's voice trailed off, her lips searching for the right words but coming up empty-handed.  
It wasn't that she didn't wait to read Levi her work. She just didn't want to read Levi that particular story.  
It was difficult to explain, but Carry On Simon was Cath's story, in the way that her thoughts were her thoughts and her body was her body. She had taken The world of Gemma T. Leslie's making and weaved it into her own. So in the end, in some way, it had become _Cath's_ story, (which was ridiculous considering thousand and thousands of people had already read it).

But anyway...  
Tyrannus Basilton Pitch,  
Simon Snow,  
Penelope Bunce,  
The World of Mages,  
They were all Cath's.  
She was theirs, and they were hers.  
She had kidnapped The World of Mages and raised it as her own.

"Yes Cather, I'm sure. I want to hear your every word." He whispered against her ear.

She took another deep breath.  
Nodded once.  
Twice.  
Three times.  
Then typed her story into the search bar, ad it popped right up.

She straightened her glasses and cleared her throat, feeling the heat rise on her neck in red blotches under the gaze of Levi's closed eyes, his arms squeezing her middle, and her heartbeat everywhere.  
"Chapter One-"

"Cather?"

"Shh, I'm trying to read," She cleared her throat again. "Chapter One-"

"Cather, will you come with me to Arnold?"

"Take a shower first, you still really reek, then we'll talk."

"Doesn't matter, I'm on the couch again anyway so my stench shouldn't bother you."

"I'm pretty sure you've already tainted my room just by standing in it, let alone my bed."

He laughed, and Cath felt it in between her shoulder blades. "Well then it really shouldn't matter."

"You owe me a new bed."

"Cather?" He whispered into her hair as his fingers reached up and pulled it loose from the rubber band.

"Maybe some air-freshener while you're at it too..."

"Will you? Will you come with me to Arnold when I depart and meet my family?"

The tremors were in her hands again, triggering and earthquake to rattle her entire body.  
The knots tightened, then loosened, then tightened, then loosened in her stomach.  
And the word was diving from her lips before she could bite it back.

"Yes."


	10. Chapter 9: Blank Pages

9

Blank Pages

She felt the tremors everywhere.  
In her lip, quivering beyond her control.  
In her throat, so thick and sticky that no words could be spoken from her.  
In her hands, quaking through to her fingers and trembling them beyond her prevention.  
In her heart, the shudders pulsing in its beats.

The gaze of her eyes remained fixated on the dirt road ahead, motionless and distant with a glassy touch to the blue that painted them within their sockets. They didn't even flick up to watch the four-story ranch house towering over a field slathered with green of a span of at least forty acres grow into view as they approached the property. But what difference did it make? It's not as if every house and field for the last fifty miles hadn't looked the same. Let alone for the last three hours and thirty-three minutes that they had been on this ceaseless road of cement for.

Cath didn't even feel nor process the shudder of Levi's truck as it rolled to a stop on the graveled driveway.  
She clenched and unclenched her wavering hands, as if doing so would somehow bring an end to the knot of anxiety and dread she had been twisting and untwisting from, only to re-twist into it, this entire road trip.  
She released the breath her lungs had held the whole ride, and felt an immediate wave of relief wash over her as the shriveled organs expanded once more within her rib cage.

Cath felt the warmth of Levi when his hand fit into hers. His fingers sliding in between her own, and suddenly it occurred to Cath that there might be a more distinct and concrete reason as to why they have gaps between them. That there was more purpose to the spaces between our fingers. And maybe this was it. Maybe the spaces between our fingers were created so another's could fill them in.

Her eyes fell on their hands. Entwined, interlaced and clasped upon the center console.  
"Okay?" Levi asks while prodding an elbow gently into Cath's arm.

She swiveled against the fabric of the passenger's seat to face the structure of white with green windowpanes and doorjambs waiting on the other side of the glass for her.  
She bit her lip to hide its quiver. Furled and unfurled her hands several times in her lap. And tried to blink the anxiety drowning out the blue in her eyes. But it was there. It was always there.  
The lone buoy bobbing out in the midst of the endless blue of the sea.

She felt the tears stinging the back of her orbs.  
_Hold it together. Hold it together._

This was all Wren's fault.

_Cath had just barely drifted off when their bedroom door swung open and slammed against the wall, chipping away at the powder-pink it was painted.__  
__"Shit." She heard the distant voice of Wren mumble, her night vision evidently not as sharp and proficient as Reagan's, as she stumbled through the darkness of their room._

_"Hi." Cath mumbled groggily into her pillow._

_"Shh, go back to sleep." Wren hissed.__  
__Cath's eyes, which were still sticky and heavy with sleep, opened slightly to watch the silhouette of her sister dance through the pitch-blackness while she kicked off first her boots, then her jeans before she yanked on a pair of cotton pajama pants with a slight hop. And after smudging away her make-up, (or rather smearing the inky liquid across her face), she climbed into the twin bed opposite Cath's and slithered underneath the covers, nuzzling into her pillow._

_"How was it?" Cath whispered into the darkness between them._

_"Mmm, just perfect." Wren replied with shut eyes and a smile etched into her lips, which practically glowed in the dark._

_"Wren and Jandro sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-"_

_"Oh shut up Clevi." Wren snapped, tossing a pillow at where she estimated Cath's head to be.__  
__She was satisfied to discover that the cushion had struck its target by the grunt that escaped from Cath's lips and into the shadows pooling around them._

_"Clevi?" Cath questioned, her nose scrunched and her eyebrows arched, as she rocked herself into a cross-legged position and rifled under her covers for her laptop-she had fallen asleep writing. Or rather, faded into slumber while in the process of trying to brainstorm what to write next.__  
__She still had a blank page boring into her soul in the way of what words her fingers will type up next._

_"Cath, Levi, Clevi?" Wren answered, her eyes falling shut again._

_"So we have a ship name now?"_

_"Pretty much."_

_"Why Clevi?"_

_"Well, I didn't really like the sound of Levath nor do I like the taste of it on my tongue. It has absolutely zero ring to it, so Clevi it is."_

_"Okay then, you guys are-" Cath started, only to be interrupted mid-sentence._

_"Don't bother, I already tried. How exactly can you put Wren and Jandro together and still have that certain, catchy ring to it?"_

_"Seriously? You already tried?"_

_Wren gave a shrug. "Well, when historians want to tell a love story as great as ours one day they'll need a suitable name for the two of us. Anyway, moving on. So what did you and Levi talk about?"_

_"Nothing." Cath said with a shrug._

_"Come on Cath, spill the beans." Wren pried, sitting up now._

_A sigh left her lips as the words formed on her tongue.__After all, what was the point in keeping it from Wren? She could see everything.__She had the built-in vision to see all the craziness that went on beneath this veneer of slightly crazy and socially-inept that Cath had built as a veil around herself. __Plus, she was just in with Cath.__  
__There was no forgiving.__No forgetting.__  
__Because there was nothing to forgive.__  
__And nothing to forget._

_There was no mask.  
__There was no barrier.  
__There was no lying.  
__There was no deceit.  
__There was no hiding.  
__There was no concealing.  
__There was just in.  
__Just in and built-in for life.  
__Since always.__  
__And for always._

_"He wants me to go with him to Arnold and spend a few days at the ranch, get to know his family." Cath spoke, her words almost drowned out by the silence of the dark, without glancing over at her sister._

_"Cath! That's great! And so adorable, I must say."_

_"Shut up." Cath mumbled, trying desperately to contain the smile threatening to seep its way into her lips, for she feared it would dazzle even half as brightly in the dark as Wren's._

_"Yep, double wedding. It's happening. I can just see it all now," Wren said, placing her fingers on either side of her temple while her eyes drew closed. "I see, I see, ah, matching dresses. Flowers everywhere!"_

_"No, that won't work. Levi said he's selecting his own dress."__  
__And the twins burst into a fit of laughter._

_"Whatever you do, just keep me updated. I'm just a phone call away." Wren said with a sticky, gooey wink._

_Cath pulled her knees into her chest and drew her laptop nearer to her. "It doesn't matter, I'm not going."_

_"What?!" Wren practically shouted, always having been the twin who is difficult to go unnoticed and with little in the way of a volume control button._

_Shrugging off and ignoring her sister's shock, Cath proceeded to click the mouse and pull up her FanFixx . net account, along with her rough draft of a single, blank page, which brings her back to square one. __Cath became oblivious to her sister's presence as she tried to lose herself to the blank page displayed before the narrow slits of her sore eyes, which squint with strain under the bright glare of the screen.__To lose herself to the cursor that blinks before her, its every flash before her eyes like a taunt. __To lose herself to the words she yearns to have bubbling up inside of her just waiting to pour and spill from her lips.__To lose herself to the board of keys etched with every letter of the alphabet that will only compos the words hidden in her fingertips with the correct combination, which is a combination Cath did not possess._

_"Hey!" Cath hissed, momentarily forgetting to whisper when Wren slammed her laptop shut from the opposite end of Cath's bed.__  
__And Cath couldn't seem to recal feeling the bed sway and squeak from beneath her as Wren's weight was added to the mattress._

_"What do you mean you're not going? You just told me you said yes to his invitation, so what do you mean you aren't going?" Wren questioned. Although her questions, even the one asked with a gentle tone, felt more like interrogations. She spoke her words aggressively, which made it all the more difficult for Cath to drown them out of her mind._

_"Well," Cath's eyes glanced everywhere. Touching any and every shadow in the room they could find. Anything to avoid the scorching stare of Wren's transparent, icy blue eyes. "Well," Cath stuttered a moment before her eyes fell on Wren's by accident.__Wren's blue eyes narrowed and flashed through the darkness between them, burning into Cath's like blue flames._

_"I'm going to embarrass him alright? I said it. Happy now?" Cath drew her hands back and rubbed her palms along her flannel pajama pants and kept talking when Wren didn't say anything. "I'm going to flip out and breakdown in front of his mom and she's going to classify me as the type of crazy that should be locked away behind four thick walls of concrete, and maybe I am, who knows anymore? It's all going to be too much and I'll start crying and shaking and melting down and I'll end up just like dad; lonely, single, sad, antisocial, depressed, crazy, mentally impaired, and damaged every which way possible. Plus I still have things to write, new stories I have left to discover and worlds I have to open up for Simon and Baz. Things they have to do, people they have to meet, places they have to-"_

_"You're wrong Cath," Wren spoke before Cath's words could become incoherent beyond comprehension. "You're dead wrong," She set aside Cath's laptop, pried Cath's knees away from her chest and grasped her hands in hers, interlacing her their fingers while she spoke. "You're only saying all these things because you're trying to talk yourself out of it," She said gently while drawing continuous circles into Cath's palm with her thumb. "You're trying to give yourself excuses not to go just like you kept telling yourself you weren't cut out for Fiction Writing class last semester because you were too afraid to try."_

_Cath dug around in her throat for the protest she wanted to feel rising up in her, but she emerged empty-handed. __There was just simply no arguing with Wren. __She was the life preserver that prevented Cath from drowning. __The wings that kept her flying. The edge that prevented her from falling. __The anchor that kept her from drifting away and at bay. __The hand that kept her not entirely on land, but remaining on the edge of the deep, dark, ceaseless abyss lying below._

_"You need to start doing things that scare you Cath, at least once a day." She whispered as her thumb circled back around and retraced its pattern along Cath's skin._

_"But Simon... And Baz..." Was all Cath could muster._

_"Will still be here when you get back. But right now, it's time for Cath Avery to go find her adventure," Cath could see Wren's smile again, glowing in the dark. Dazzling and remaining untouched by any and all shadows. "It's time you go out there, into the great world of the unknown, find your own words and write your own story Cath." Wren's forehead inched towards Cath's and hovered there a moment before falling against hers and bringing a close to the space between them._

_"Do I get to take the Sword of Mages at least?" Cath whispered, her breath warm on Wren's chin._

_Wren laughed.__  
__"Fine, but the wands stay here. I can't let you take all the magic. Besides you've got an abundant supply of it up your sleeve."_

That night had been two days before Cath and Levi rolled away from Cath's home.  
From her dad.  
From Wren.  
From Simon.  
From Baz.  
From Omaha.

And now, now Levi was asking Cath if she was okay.  
Was she okay?  
She didn't know anymore.

But here was what she did know.  
There was Levi.  
There was her.  
There were their hands still entwined with one another upon the console.  
And there word the words. Still waiting to be written.

Cath turned back to face Levi, to which he replied with nothing short of a dazzling grin that wrinkled his forehead, crinkled the corners of his eyes and practically made the blue in them disappear into his cheeks. She couldn't help it. It was like something inside of him drew something stirring in the very depths of her stomach out of her. Her hand snaked its way up his chest, around his collar, and skimmed the skin on the nape of his neck, drawing his lips to hers.

"Okay?" He asked when they had parted.

"I'm sorry." Her eyes fell from his at her words. "I'm going to ruin everything."

"Hey," He whispered. "C'mere."  
She laughed slightly at this and allowed him to draw her into his chest.  
Into his flannel shirt and beating heart as he enveloped and absorbed her into him.

"It doesn't matter," He whispered into her knotted bun of brown hair. "I'm rooting for you."

It was only when her back ached and his arms grew sore from the embrace that they parted.  
As she swung down from the passenger's side, Cath glared the house down. Gathered her wits. Sucked in a breath. Pressed the tremors running through her hands into her thighs. Attempted to ignore the hammering in her chest. And strode forward with a high head upon her shoulders and a straight back. All the while wishing she had the Sword of Mages within the grasp of her fingertips.  
But it was without it that she entered the Dragon's Den.


	11. Chapter 10: Fire & Rain

10

Fire &amp; Rain

"So Catherine, tell us about yourself."

Her fork froze in midair, causing the peas she had scooped up to spill one by one to her plate. Her hand gripped the piece of silver, pinching the utensil until her knuckles drained of their pink flush into a pale white as she tried to pinch the nerves slithering just beneath her skin from her body. As if doing so was as simple as juicing a lime. (If only).  
Slowly, her white-knuckled, iron grip loosened one finger at a time, and that's when Cath realized her mouth was hanging partially open. She bit it shut, using most of her steady focus to do so, causing her grasp on the silverware to loosen completely in the process. Her teeth dug into her lip as she cringed away from the clang of the utensil when it clattered against the ceramic of her dish.

"Sorry." Cath mumbled through clenched teeth and the sliver of an opening in between her lips.

The dining room quickly fell into a spell of silence thick and heavy with heat. And it was as if everyone and everything in the room-Levi, Cath, Marlisse, all the little antique features displayed throughout the completely furnished living room: the ceramic dishes, tea set of a pot and two dainty little cups, (all seemingly hand-crafted and painted by the looks of it), the array of family photos arranged neatly upon the bookshelf, which held not a library of Simon Snow that Cath was so familiar and well-acquainted with but rather an entire Barnes &amp; Noble stock worth of religious works with more bibles then Cath could count. There was even one titled; 'The Teaching Of Preaching' tucked snugly away between the Encyclopedia Of American Religion and The Age Of Reason-were all holding their breath. It was like the silence before the storm; the moment you suck in a breath and silently count down the seconds while you wait for either the sun or rain. When the sun's rays of gold break through the sliver of a crack in the clouds, it burns. But when it rains, it pours.

The sweat began to bead her forehead, her nerves revealing themselves in the drop of perspiration that glistened on her skin. She could only hope that the dimmed bulb of light dangling from the lamp in the ceiling above their heads concealed the evidence of what a wreck she truly was well enough. Because Cath herself was sure as hell not capable of hiding what her body had a mind of its own for in the way of revealing what is best left buried beneath a plot of earth and the sunk deep in the very depths of the ocean where none may discover the craziness that pulsed through her every vein of blue.

Even though Cath's blue eyes rested on the perfectly spotless dark indigo of the velvet table cloth, she could feel the back of her orbs and every inch of her skin burn under the pressure of the watery-grey that leaked from the orbs of Levi's mother as she studied Cath's wavering hand suspiciously. Studied _Cath_ suspiciously, as if she were some insect. An insect from some kind of foreign realm a whole other planet apart. A dangerous foreign extraterrestrial insect that had to be squashed quickly.

"It's just Cather mom." Levi spoke up around a mouthful of mash potato and deep fried halibut.  
Cath could hear the smile behind his voice, and she was glad for his charismatic charm.  
Bless him. Bless him to infinite and beyond.

His mother dismissed Levi's words with a single flick of her wrist. It was with her fingers that she simply swept his words under a rug as if they were never spoken to begin with. "Please Levi, we were discussing Catherine."  
At this, Levi's grin withered and shriveled into a thin pink line of his lips the a flower wilts one petal at a time, and Cath couldn't determine whether her stomach was aching, twisting, bleeding, gnawing or crumbling for him. Or perhaps all at once. But what she knew for certain was that she felt him there. The constant tug of Levi beating in the very center of her being. He drew something out of her with even just the slightest of stolen glances upon his long, lanky figure and finely sketched face etched on the canvas in lines of charcoal. And Cath wasn't quite sure whether she liked what he drew from her or whether she was afraid of it.

"Just Cath."  
Cath mumbled in a squeak. She had to stifle the hiccup of nerves that rose in her throat and nearly caused her to choke on her words.  
She pressed her palms flat against her thighs, trying to rub the jitters from her hands along her jeans. But when that failed, she returned to clenching her fists and pinching the nervous energy from her skin.

"Well, Just Cath," His mom spoke. "Do share a little about yourself."  
Her every word bled from her lips like the breath of steam from the flared nostrils of a dragon. And when she spoke Cath's name, her lips released the fire brewing on the inside. Cath quickly realized she couldn't go on dodging the flames forever. It was time to fight fire with fire. Sword of Mages or no Sword of Mages.

"Well, I live up in Omaha with my dad and sister..." Her words shook only slightly on the way out, and she had to grin a little at this. Her lips breathed the pour of rain as fast as her mouth could move.  
Cath could just hear Wren whispering to her through the dark as she rubbed circles with her thumb into Cath's skin, _"Fire and rain."__  
__"We are unbreakable."_

But the fire came just as quickly.  
"No mother?"

"Er, no." Cath's shoulders deflated only slightly at this little tidbit of the conversation, and she beamed at this.  
It was getting easier to talk about She Who Must Not Be Named without letting the anger to reveal itself in her trembling fists and strained face just oozing tension before her face crumbled one muscle at a time. The thin line of her lips would quiver into the approaching tears. The sharp, narrow corners of her blue eyes would soften into the puddles of salty water that had pooled in each eye. Her clenched fists would unravel into the tremors that crawled through her hands as they wrapped around her stomach, hugging her middle. All the while she tried to hold herself upright. To hold her broken pieces together. To dim the detonation of the disaster of the animated grenade she was underneath her veneer of slightly crazy and socially inept. To keep her fragments only from briefly falling away and not apart.  
She would have to hide it all. Because she never wanted She Who Must Not Be Named to know exactly just how much she had affected her. Just how much she had impacted her and her sanity. How much she had broken her. How much she had meant to Cath.  
But That's the thing, she _had_ meant to Cath. She had shifted from meaning completely everything to meaning absolutely nothing over the years.

"Hmm... Interesting." Marlisse, spat with a bitter expression she hardly attempted to hide in her features. As if this entire conversation left a sour taste upon her tongue.

"Mom..." Levi spoke, his voice strained and almost pleading. His tone trickled with the color of irritation.

His words were met without acknowledgement or even a glance from his mother, as the grey watering her eyes never tore away from the blue painting Cath's. It was as if she were on a mission to either divulge or clean Cath from head to toe of her flaws, and Levi was the mere distraction of inefficient evidence that she had first tried sweeping under the carpet at her feet but was now smudging away with a bucket and cloth, spraying down the floor of his infuriating interruptions.

"And what are you studying at the University of Nebraska may I ask?"

"She takes Fiction Writing." Levi blurted, as if he couldn't contain a mouthful of secrets through his dinner anymore.

"Levi, who am I speaking to? Have I taught my children no manners?" His mother scolded her son, exasperation accompanying her every word.  
Levi clamped a hand over his mouth, failing to hide the smile and laughter lighting up the blue coloring his irises. His eyes crossed Cath's a moment before he motioned sealing his lips closed and his gaze landed on his mostly-empty plate of food, whereupon he shoved another forkful of mashed potatoes and peas into his mouth.

"Fiction Writing you say?"

Cath nodded, pinching the grin that fought its way into her lips into a thin, flat line of pink as she endeavored to avoid Levi's eyes. For if she caught them the smile tearing her inside and out would surely devour her entire face in a fit of laughter.

"And what is it that you like to write about exactly?"

Simon Snow.  
The world of magicians and vampires.  
The school of Watford.  
The band of Mages.  
The evil that is the insidious Humdrum.  
The good that is Penelope Bunce.  
The black and white truth of the love of Simon Snow and Tyrannus Basilton Pitch.  
In other words, gay fanfiction.  
How exactly do you explain this to the religious mother of your boyfriend?

"Uh, well..."

"She mostly writes fantasy," Levi pitched in. And this time, he had piqued his mother's attention. "But she also recently just got an original story of hers published in Prairie Schooner. That's the school's Underclassmen Journal."  
Cath felt around with her toes under the table, silently and cautiously searching for Levi's foot, (or possibly a shin), so she could kick him back into the spell of momentary silence his mother had cast upon him. Cath's goal to cross off her To Do list that night had been to survive both the introduction and dinner with his mom. Not to become her new favorite celebrity nor her new best friend, and _especially_ not her enemy.

"Really?" Marlisse inquired, her tone less then whelmed, but still, even a little bit intrigued.

"Uh huh," Levi blabbered on, wiping his lips clean of the mashed potatoes that flecked his chin like snow. "It went on to win the Underclassmen Prize, which by the way is a incredible achievement and honor for an undergraduate. You should read it mom, it's all over the internet. It's a story definitely worth both the read and write."

"Perhaps... What's it called?"

"Left..." The word left Cath's lips in a whisper. As if it might explode on Cath's tongue if she weren't careful with the fragile letters. It held within it the obstacle of Cath's life that she had overcome with much difficulty and at a great cost. The difficulty being the walking, talking disaster of chaos that she was. And the cost being Wren. She was her best friend built in for life and she had lost her over the one who abandoned them. Who left them alone with only each other's shoulders to cry on. Wren was all Cath wanted. Who was all she _needed_.  
And she wasn't about to lose sight of that again.

"Well then, I suppose I will have to read this story of yours Catherine," Marlisse said with a clap of her palms but without sincerity. She then stood from the table and began to gather the plates. "But, dishes first."

Cath began to rise from her seat. "I'll help you." She offered timidly, like she was expecting the dragon to spit fire at her any second now.

"Oh no, that's alright Catherine."

"You better listen to her Cather, my mom has serious feng-shui control issues when it revolves around her kitchen." Levi warned her as he lept from his chair, nearly sending it clattering to the floor in the process, and began to stretch his long body.

"Oh... Well, thank you for dinner Mrs-"

"Oh, please Catherine, call me Marlisse." She requested with a slight cringe at 'missus'.  
She swept swiftly in and out from between the kitchen and dining room. She cleared the table of the stained dishes, stacking them one by one along her arm. Collected the utensils, tucking them away in the used cups. Packed away the leftovers and scraped the remaining scraps of food from the plates and into the trash.

"Yeah, missus makes her feel old." Levi said. He strode over to her seat and slid his palms into Cath's, fitting his narrow fingers in between hers, before yanking her onto her feet. She teetered on her feet for moment at the force, falling into his chest and catching his scent for a second before rocking back onto her heels.

"Come on, time for the tour." Levi announced and gestured with his hands toward the staircase spiraling up into the second level. "Magician's first." He said with a quirk of his eyebrow.

As they made their way up the stairs one step at a time side by side with Levi's palm resting in between her shoulder blades, Cath noticed that he was grinning from ear to ear. And seeing his smile, well, Cath just couldn't fight the tug in her own lips as they widened into a grin and devoured her whole face.


	12. Chapter 11: Love Will Tear Us Apart

**Thank you so much to acciounicorn491 for your fantastic reviews that brought a smile to my face!:)  
And it is because of you that I am inspired to write the Carry On Simon story, which I will hopefully begin sometime in the near future:) I am also intending to write the origin story of Park's parents. How they met and came to fall in love:) So I really hope I can get some interest for that story! Also please go check out my epilogue for Eleanor and Park, Nothing Ever Ends as it would really mean a lot:)**

**Please enjoy and review!:)**

**-birdywings**

* * *

11

Love Will Tear Us Apart

He froze where he stood, his every muscle petrified with the tension that rose in his every fiber. It grew like a living demon inside him, clutching him inside and out to the point he could no longer catch his breath. His fingertips ran cold. His palms grew moist. His skin became clammy. His lips tasted dry. His eyes darted everywhere, restless and pulsating with the nervous energy burning behind the green that colored their irises. His ears tingled with the sound of her voice. The sound they could never forget. The voice that was never lost.  
A voice he hadn't heard in twenty-six years.

"Park?" She spoke. "Park Sheridan? Is it really you?"  
She sounded far. Too far. As if every year spent apart was just another shovel digging another three hundred and sixty-five days deeper into the gaping mouth of the chasm that had formed between them. She was so distant that he struggled to hear her. Such a small blotch of a speck in the distance he couldn't even see her. So far away he could no longer touch her even if he strained to reach for the very tips of her fingers.  
They were so close, yet so far. And there still remained years worth of miles to recover between them.

He wouldn't turn to face her. He couldn't turn to face her.  
How could he? How could he bring himself to take an excruciating trip down memory lane? How could he watch all those images of memories that had been splotched and smeared into globs of blurs over the years? So smudged and stained they had become that he could no longer recognize the faces that the mixture of colors painted within his mind. How could he turn and look her in the eye without hating everything she ever stood for?  
After all, she betrayed him. But in a way, she had also saved them.  
So perhaps, even Tina, with all her flaws and demons running rampant and wild through her veins, wasn't quite beyond redemption just yet.

He didn't have to make himself face her. Thank God she didn't make him face her.  
"Well, as I live and breathe," The words left her mouth in a voice that was rather breathy and hushed. "Park Sheridan. Holy. Shit. Where the hell have you been all this time?"  
He couldn't taste any words tingling on the edge of his tongue, and so he was left with only the offer a mere shrug of his shoulder.

"Really? That's all you've got? That's all that's left of you after twenty-six years? Man, your mom wasn't kidding."

"You've been talking to my mom?" He demanded in a rather brusque tone. One that he just couldn't seem to help.  
It seemed like everything he did nowadays was in a rather curt manner.  
Perhaps Eleanor had left him more than either of them had thought. She had given him a little bit of herself. Little by little. Piece by broken piece.  
He didn't think he even breathed when they were apart. Which meant it had been two hundred and twenty-seven thousand, nine hundred and eleven hours since he had last taken a breath. All his anger toward the world and the bastard that life had a nasty habit of being when it wished on a whim was made up of damaged pieces on the inside. Brittle and bitter they were, threatening to fall apart whenever he saw a flash of bright red. But no one had a fire that burned as bright as Eleanor did.  
He was angry. Angry that life could give them to each and tear them apart.  
But that is what love did, it tore people apart.

"Of course, we were always close. Plus I hold the record as her longest client."

"Wait, she's still managing the salon?"

"Yeah, she's just not taking in any new clients anymore. I would think that her son would know this but from what your parents tell me, I can see why you don't."

"I didn't know." He mumbled, his eyes glowing of green averting to the grey patch of paved sidewalk revealed between his tattered sneakers of black.

"Yeah..." Her voice trailed off into the heavy silence that ensued and drowned their words.

She still looked the same. Small. Dainty. Short. Compact and narrow with curves, and after seeing Eleanor, Park had to wonder where thin girls like Tina put all their organs. Let alone their bones or whatever inch of fat remained on their bodies. Did they pack it all into duct under their shirts? Did they even eat anything? Stuff it all into their jeans? Could you even pinch an inch?  
She still wore her head of blond in wavy tendrils of spiraling curls around her neck. Despite still having the same physical appearance, Park could tell just from the look of her that something had changed. But even then, Park knew that no matter what had changed or occurred over these long years, he knew that underneath the thin layer of flesh in which it was caged and shackled in, was the same demon of a mean streak that had lived and thrived in Tina so long ago.

In her hand she lugged a plastic bag with _Dairy Queen_ scrawled across its white. It sagged at the bottom in the shape of a rectangle, and Park could just catch a glimpse of the cake, which wrote in purple icing, _'Happy Birthday Stephanie'. _She must have noticed Park eyeing it.

"It's our little girl's birthday today. Turning sixteen already. Where does the time go huh?" Her lips pinched into a feeble smile at her words, but her eyes spoke what she did not speak. The silence of what she dreaded and fretted to come soon. The day the birds decide they're too old for the nest.

"Yeah." Park echoed, his eye never abandoning the dessert.  
He stared the trio of words written in sugared icing. His dark brows furrowing into the crease of concentration etching its way onto his forehead.

"Remember when we were that young?"

He laughed out loud. He couldn't contain it.  
"Tina, I can barely remember what I ate for breakfast yesterday. Do you really expect me to remember what idiots we all were at sixteen?"

"I believe that you can remember. I just think you don't want to."  
The silence washed over them.  
Slow. Numbing. Heavy. Hot. Thick.

"Do you want to go for coffee?" She asked.  
Park froze and sucked in a breath when her hand reached out. As if she were intending to caress his face or trace his ear or even to simply touch his shoulder. Park froze. He remained frozen and it was only when her hand casually retreated to her ear where her fingers tucked in a few loose strands of blond, that the air slowly deflated from his lips. The tension thawing from his body one muscle at a time. He froze because he hadn't been touch with such affection since Eleanor. And if he let a girl touch him the way Eleanor had, he feared she would touch him wrong. Because no one's hands were as gentle or as careful as Eleanor's hands were.  
And he was hers, and she was his. To have and to hold. Not forever-maybe not forever, for sure-and not figuratively. But literally. And now. Now he was hers and she was his. And he wouldn't want it any other way.

"No thanks. I should probably be turning in now." He teetered on his feet, falling back on his heels, and shrugged his shoulders out of habit when his hands shoved themselves into his jean pockets.

"Relax Park, I just meant for catching up. We're old friends. You owe me that much. Plus I'm with Steve anyway. And I love him, he loves me. We love our kids. We're happy. I'm happy." Her every syllable oozed of passion and trickled with emotion. As if her family was her entire world.  
And maybe it was. Maybe happiness did exist. For some people at least.  
Park wouldn't know because life was a bastard.

"So coffee?" She asked when she thrust her hand into the gap between them.

Park allowed the small smile to find its way to his lips. "Sure. Another time." His hand slid out from his pocket and into hers as he spoke.  
Her palm was warm, (warm for the average person. Not warm warm. Not Eleanor warm), and so tiny in his that he had to remind himself to handle the fragile frame of glass that Tina was with caution.

"Glad to hear it." And with that, she shuffled away. Her spiraling curls of milky blond bouncing with her every step. Her hips saying. Her arms swinging.  
And Park was just about to tear himself away when she stopped short in her tracks and hollered back to him. "Park?"

His head quirked in her direction.

"Are you happy?"

The words didn't wash over him. He wished they had. It would have hurt less. Instead, they dropped like a stone deep in the very depths of his soul, their weight dragging him down inch by inch into the bottomless pit of black he fell through day by day. Hour by every hour he went without a breath, he was submerged a wave deeper.

"Oh, I'm swell."

He drowned a wave deeper. Fell an inch further. Suffocated a breath more. And was broken apart a piece more.  
Because that is what love did...  
It tore us apart.


	13. Chapter 12: Forgive & Forget

12

Forgive &amp; Forget

She came everyday. She stepped foot in the door, arriving at precisely eleven o'clock. No earlier. No later. She ordered the same beverage; a low-fat, two percent milk gingerbread latte with extra whip. And the same pastry from the given selection; a scone crispy and buttery of its rich, golden flakes on the outside and juicy of the blueberry filling leaking with flavor of a tropical sensation on the inside. She sat at the same table every time she sunk down against the plastic of the chair to slowly nibble at the pastry little by little crumb. And out off all the rows and aisles of shelves stacked and packed with a variety of reading material, there was only one shelf she read from.  
It was Eleanor's favorite shelf. And, apparently, her sister's too.

It was nestled away deep in a distant corner of the store. Drenched and forgotten in the shadows. The novels it cradled were in the roughest of shape. Sprinkled in a fine coat of dust from years of sitting upon the shelves, remaining unopened and untouched. Their pages leathery and wrinkled of age. The words written across the paper to spell out each and every story faded and smudged with age. The jackets of dust they were clad in were torn and ripped at the edges. Their covers bent and broken with neglect under scribble and scrawl of the forgotten titles of classics.  
But it was not by the cover that a book should be judged.

The first time Eleanor had stepped foot into the entrance. In the single blink her eyes, which leaked of a brown so dark they were practically black, fell on the labyrinth of bookshelves. From her inhale to her exhale, her nose caught the thick scent of coffee beans wafting through the air, and she stumbled back on her feet from its overwhelmingly nauseating aroma. The second she discovered that shelf in the one section of the store that was broken of heartbreak. Forgotten with time. Abandoned with neglect. Rejected of poor condition. Bent with mistreatment. Wrinkled of age. Dusty of the years spent on the shelves. And faded of the stories they told, Eleanor had been robbed of the heart she had thought was lost along with Park. It was stolen away by the novels that had made the cut; _Garp, Watership Down, Love Story, Little Women_, and of course, _Jo's Boys._

Eleanor remembered staring at those same titles from across her old bedroom in what now felt like another lifetime. She would lie in her bed with her hands resting on her stomach, rising and falling with her abdomen in the rhythm of her breaths. Her feet would fiddle and fidget relentlessly at the end of the bed, winding the sheets that sat there in a useless heap, as if they had nothing better to sit for, around her ankles. Her neck curved around the end of the mattress, allowing her head to loll loosely over the bed frame, leaving her spirals of red curls to dangle in a curtain. She lay there for countless hours on end. Long after her mind had become numb with the blood that rushed to it. Yet, her eyes would continue to skim the titles over and over and over again. Like there was nothing better they could be reading. And they would reach the end of the shelf only to retrace the words and once again, begin from scratch.  
And it occurred to her that perhaps that was how all stories began; once upon a time as nothing but scratches scrawled across a spare piece of stationary.

Eleanor had loved those books. Every single one. Each story she read she held and locked away like a secret in her heart. Too bright for the light. Too beautiful for the darkness. Too precious to be divulged. Too pure to be genuine. And yet, all too pathetic. Even for someone as broken as Eleanor was.  
Every time she slid a book from its slot on the shelf, or plucked it from its spot on her dresser, or cradled it in her open palms, or pried the cover open one fingertip at a time, her heart would skip a beat. There was once a time when those stories could save her life. Before Richie. Before her parents. Before her siblings chose whom their allegiances lay with. Before they betrayed her. She could scan those words and not escape into the script so much as disappear into it. Walking through life like the phantom she wanted to be. It was all back when there was a chance her life could be saved. Or more accurately; when her life was worth saving, (if there ever was a chance). But save her life they did nonetheless. Not forever. Not for good. Probably just temporarily. But now she was theirs, and they were hers. To have an to hold. Not forever-maybe not forever, for sure-and not figuratively. But literally. And now. Now she was theirs and they were hers.

She saw her now. No more than a few yards away. Sitting alone. Nibbling at the godforsaken blueberry scone again. _WatershipDown_ propped up against the gingerbread latte her hand grasped.  
Eleanor watched her eyes scan the page sentence by sentence. And she noticed for the first time in all the years she had known her sister that her lips moved when she read. The words scrawled across the page silently leaking from between her lips, speaking the story under her every breath.  
A twenty-six year gap lay between them, and Eleanor realized with a twist of her gut that if it hadn't been for the unwavering mean look ever present in her eyes, she wouldn't even be able to recognize Maisie anymore.  
Her hair was longer. Darker maybe? A few creases revealed themselves here and there in her skin. Something that wasn't there the last time Eleanor had seen her. It was difficult not to notice the weight that hung heavily on her shoulders like a burden. It was the weight of living.

But the brown in her eyes was still her eyes.  
And even when she approached the counter, staring Eleanor directly in the eye-her glare never surrendering to Eleanor's-Eleanor couldn't help but see the child of no more than eight years she once was.  
Through Eleanor's eyes, she saw the shadows gather around the small figure in the darkness. She lay sprawled on the floor, her body shaking and shuddering with the sobs that crawled through her when she cried inside and out like the rest of them. Her brown locks shielded her tear-stained face and flushed cheeks like a curtain draped over the true colors that painted their lives night and day. Her thumb squeezed its way between her lips, and all through the night she sucked and shook like the baby that still lay within her.

Eleanor scanned her selected copy of _Watership Down_, shoved the novel in a plastic bag and swiped her card before gently placing her purchase on the counter, and sliding it across to her. All without touching hands once. Because Eleanor felt she had long ago lost the right to even make eye contact with any member of the family she had abandoned. But that didn't stop Maisie.  
She could feel the heat of her glare seeping into her skin. And it all became too hot to handle. She could only imagine her eyes pleading and asking of Eleanor; _Why did you leave us Eleanor? Why? Why were we not worth_ _saving?_  
And she could only hope that Maisie would understand that Eleanor, even after all these years apart, couldn't even save herself anymore.

But when she glanced up, Eleanor saw something in Maisie's eyes that she had ever seen before.  
Beyond the resentment that burned. Past the jealousy that still lingered. Through the recognition. Eleanor saw, if her eyes were not mistaken, even the slightest hint of _something._ Forgiveness? No. Most definitely not. Understanding? Maybe... But even that was raising the bar too high when it came to Maisie. But something, even if it would eventually be reduced to nothing, flickered somewhere deep inside her just for Eleanor.

And with only the slightest hint of a smile turning up in the corner of her lips, Maisie took the bag containing her purchase, and disappeared through those doors of glass without looking back once. And Eleanor watched through the window as she sped away with nothing but a cloud of exhaust and tire marks to leave in her wake. All the years worth of words had been spoken in that one glance.  
Up until that very moment had Eleanor not stopped asking herself; _What happened to the others? Did Richie kick them out? Or did mom receive another beating because of my actions? Where are they now? Will I ever see them again? What about Mouse? Ben? Maisie? Why didn't I save them? _But even then, Eleanor knew all too well that she was no hero. (Because unfortunately, older sisters just didn't yet come in that model.) She wasn't equipped with super powers, or even pockets deep enough to stow her family away in. She was only just as desperate and as damaged as the rest of them.  
But now, only one question plagued her as she stared through the plexiglass and watched the gravel spew from under the tires. It erased her mind blank and sent her palms running cold.

_Am I too late?_

* * *

That night, Eleanor lay with her limbs spread out and her body flat against the mattress. Her hair was strewn across the sheets in tendrils of red, that didn't quite shape her head so much as smear it with her curls. As if all the colors were blending into the same painting on the canvas of black. Like the colors were a living thing that took a life of its own when the lights were turned out. She took a deep breath, which smoothed out her stomach, and she tried to make herself as thin as possible. Maybe. Just maybe. If she tried hard enough, she could deflate herself so thin that she would dissolve into nothing at all. Not even the air that floated in from the crack in the windowpane.

She lay there. Still and silent in the darkness. Not even the breaths that escaped the sliver of a crack between her lips uttered a sound. She waited for the darkness to fade. For the stillness to fall into movement. For the silence to be shattered with sounds. For a world of suck to hit the fan. For her mind to shut down from its override after thinking too hard and too long. For far too long had she allowed it to wander. And now she caught herself trying to imagine a twenty-six year older Maisie. And the vision of her sister under her eyelids made her shiver. She tried to picture where she fell into life now. Was she a dentist? Lawyer? She could sure as hell argue her way out of just about anything. She tried to see Ben, and Mouse, and even Little Richie. But she couldn't picture any of them. She couldn't bring herself to imagine where they now belonged in life. She couldn't even imagine where she fell at the moment. Because Eleanor never really belonged anywhere other than when she was lying in her bed and pretending to be somewhere else. And now. Now all she was left with were the unanswered questions of what had become of her siblings over the years spent and wasted apart. What had become of the strangers she had once known as her own? She didn't know. She didn't know. And she didn't necessarily feel the need to find out.  
All she knew, was that she had to believe for at least just this once that it wasn't too late for them. But even as she told herself this, in the end, Eleanor knew very well with the ember rays of the rising sun streaming through the cracks in the shutters that there was no happy. Only endings.


	14. Chapter 13: Bewitched

13

Bewitched

Some people would wake up, rubbing the sleep from their bleary eyes, and scan the room with a dumbstruck expression etching itself onto their faces. Their minds would absorb all that surrounded them, slowly processing the details of the environment as they began to remember where they were and how they came to be there. But that never happened to Cath. She always remembered falling asleep. So it didn't surprise her when the glare of the rising sun peeking out from the horizon stung her eyes at the crack of dawn. And when the cry of a rooster piercing the silence in the lingering morning fog just outside her window replaced the blare of her alarm clock.

"Oh Cath... Cather... Time to rise and shine, the world awaits the magnificently magically mystical duo!" Levi's voice bellowed into her dreams. Her skin tingled at the touch of all ten of his fingers as he pried the covers away from her shoulder. She brushed his hand away, unable to keep the groan from slipping out of reach of her lips, and flipped onto her other side so her back was facing him.

"Come on Cather," Her coaxed softly, threading his fingers through the knot her hair was tied in. "I brought you breakfast."

"Too early." She moaned, her lips barely parting as the words oozed out of her mouth. But she found herself propping herself on her elbows anyway, wiping the gunk out of her eyes.

"I present you with burnt eggs and soggy french toast." He announced with a sheepish grin, which trickled of ten times more the adorable than all his thousands of other grins. Levi and his smiles. Like his lips were more flexible and purposeful than everyone else's. Like they were his superpower. Capable of bending into different shapes on a whim for the right occasions and at the right times, when the moment needed the right mood the most.

"Yum, my favorite." Cath replied, pursing the smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth into a thin line of pink. But when that failed, she shoveled a forkful of eggs into her mouth, avoiding the charred sections.

"Yeah, sorry. I guess I just don't have the talent for frying eggs like you do." He bestowed another one of his magical grins upon her, and Cath felt like he had tossed her a gift that she caught without fail because she had good hands. Levi and his smiles. Cath and Levi's smiles.

"At least the protein bar is still blissfully blueberry though. Tell you what, you stick to latte making, and I'll stick to egg frying." She sank her teeth into the bar, and tasted the blueberry filling as it trickled onto her tongue.

He laughed in spite of himself, (well, a little less than a laugh. He giggled? Can guys giggle? Cath despised the word 'chuckle'. The very sound of it could actually set her teeth on edge. So in the end, she settled for a laugh), and broke a chunk of the protein bar off before popping it into his mouth. And, tasting the bliss of blueberries, he spoke around his tongue, "Deal."

* * *

The sun's sweltering glare streamed in through the open doors and could be felt in the heat rising in her pale skin in the large blotches of red dotting her freckles. In the sweat dribbling from her forehead and dipping onto the nape of her neck. It soaked through her shirt and made her skin shine with slick. Cath couldn't remember the last time she had perspired so much. She didn't even know it was possible to perspire so much. That the body could produce this much sweat without constantly replacing the water it was losing. And, just as if Levi had read her hot and sticky thoughts, he tossed her a clear bottle of water.

She held the bottle against her forehead, letting the drops that had collected on the plastic and were still cold from the refrigerator trickle down her skin, to which she responded with a smile of relief. Levi. Always making her smile. He was dangerously contagious. He made Cath feel like a grenade, constructed to leave destruction wherever she walked in her path. More so than she already did anyway. She was a hazard to even herself. And she was scared. Not because she didn't like it, but because she did. And she was afraid of what she might do when her pin was pulled.

She twisted the cap off with a crack and chugged down a few sips, her parched throat desperate for its thirst to be quenched. So she wasn't too surprised when she emptied the bottle all in one breath.

"How do you live like this?"

"Like what?" Levi's brow quirked up his forehead adorably, and once again, Cath felt the constant tug of him in her gut.

"Like this." She waved her hand through the air as a gesture toward their surroundings. Everything from the dirt and dust that collected at their feet to the black and white splattering the cattle as they munched away on their mouthfuls of hay in their respective stalls, to the dim glow of ember the single bulb blinked of as it hung from the lowest point of the ceiling.

"Well, for starters, I don't sleep in the barn with the cows if that's what you're asking. Now come on, these beauties aren't going to milk themselves."

Cath stifled a laugh under the blush that tinted her cheeks before wandering over to join Levi, who knelt at the cattle's side. She sat in front of him, trying to fold her limbs as tightly as possible as she fit herself snugly against his lanky frame. He delicately caressed her hands in his, as if he were afraid of touching her wrong, and Cath had to suppress the grimace itching in her face when her palms came into contact with the pink flesh coating the cattle's nipple.

"So what did you mean by, 'how do you live like this?'" He breathed against her temple in attempts of soothing the tremors in her hands.

She shrugged against him, feeling her shoulder blades dig into his chest. God, his chest was large. And yet it still seemed to somehow manage to expand with his every breath. It was glorious. That there was so much of him. So many limbs. So many lines. So many crinkles in his forehead. So many smiles. So much Levi to go around. It was good for Cath. It meant she never had to stock up on him. Nor would she ever run out of him.

"All this outside work I guess," She elaborated. "All the hands-on stuff. I'm just not familiar with it."

She could feel the smirk before it even found its way to his lips. "Right, because you're all mouth."

"Shut up." She elbowed him in the ribs, attempting to hide the smile in the frown she was trying to pull off.  
Damn him. Even frustrated she still caught his smiles.

"Are we having a fight? I can play angry if you want me to."

"No. Never mind." She muttered with a leftover grin still plastered to her lips. She tried to smooth it out as she focused her concentration on her task at hand.

"Don't make me angry-kiss you."  
And she, Cath laughed in spite of herself.

"Cather?" He whispered when her laughter had been reduced to a dull ache in her stomach. "I want to touch you."

"You are touching me." She breathed back. But she knew what he meant, and she could feel the flush heating her cheeks. And suddenly, it was all too hot to handle. Like _he_ was too hot to handle. They were the flame of fire with no rain pouring down to extinguish them.

"No. I want to _touch_ you. _Really_ touch you. I want to hold you and be yours. You make me want to touch you."

"I don't really see how that's even possible..." She didn't see how her mouth actually cooperating was even a possibility at the moment. Let alone how the words managed to find her lips.

"Neither can I. I just know that it's got as much to do with the way you hide your blue eyes behind the purple frame of your glasses. Or the way you brush stray strands of hair behind your ear when they come loose. Or the way you bite your lips and your hands start shaking when your nervous. Or when you wear all your Simon Snow T-shirts and are sitting in front of your laptop just typing away your magic, I can just tell from the sight of you that it's your comfort zone and that only a handful of people are permitted to cross the boundaries you've built around yourself. You get this glassy look in your eye when you're inspired with a new idea of yours. You get a twitch in your smile when you get excited about writing action scenes. Your forehead starts to crinkle and crease with frustration when you're stuck at a blank page. Your hands and fingers get jittery when you've gone a few days without anything to spike your muse, like their high on writer's block. When your eyes get red and start bulging, that's when I know you were up all night writing the good story. And when I know to steer clear of you so I don't irritate the sleep-deprived beast you hide under all that cuteness. But most of all, I think it's got to do with the fact that you don't smile. So when you do smile Cather," He reached for the strand of brown that had escaped her bun and tucked it behind her ear. And in it he whispered, "I choose you over everyone."

She wanted those words to be the last thing she ever heard.  
She wanted to fall asleep with Levi's voice whispering in her ear.  
She wanted to lose herself to the trail of kisses he planted along the nape of her neck.  
She wanted to feel the ghost of his lips everywhere.

* * *

Her nose flared at the stench. I was a combination of fertilizer mixed with manure, all coming together to create a fowl odor wafting through the property and insistent on hovering there, directly over their heads. Cath was pretty confident her clothes were permanently tainted. That she would go home reeking like this and no amount of soap or strawberry-scented shampoo was capable of cleansing the stench out of her. Much less masking it.

"You get used to the smell after awhile." Levi said. (Reading her mind as always).  
He probably knew what her thoughts were before she did by now.

"I thought it was Wren's job to read my mind." She flashed him a smirk, to which he retaliated with a dazzling smile that absorbed what was scrawled in her lips and replaced it with what was scribbled on his.

"Well as I recall, you informed me that you guys actually lack the shared super-powered ability of telepathy as twins. So ergo, I am now the designated mind-reader."

She tried to hide her laugh in a scoff, but failed miserably. So she instead, proceeded to switch on the hose and prepared to spray the pigs clean of the dirt and muck they were smeared with. The hose came to life as the water came spraying out in a fan. It spurted all over the ground, moistening the dirt into mud under their shoes. The hogs trotted wildly in their pen, tripping and tumbling over one another as they leapt out of reach of the cold water with a series of snorts and squeals escaping their muzzles. Levi swooped in to the rescue at Cath's shrieks as she attempted to apprehend the spout of the garden hose, which danced and thrashed wildly through the air, splattering everything in its wake. It wasn't until Levi and Cath were soaked to the skin and their shoes and clothes were sopping wet that Levi managed to switch the water off.

In the struggle, Cath had slipped in the mudslide they had created at their feet and fallen over her feet into the pile of hay stacked outside the hog pen. It took a moment for Levi to determine whether she was laughing or fuming or crying or just downright delirious of all three emotions at the moment. But in the end, when the incoherent jumble of mess spouting from her lips resulted in laughter, he found himself laughing right along with her as he sprawled his back and limbs across the straw beside her. And from there, he admired the state she lay in.

Her mane of brown had fallen loose from its bun and it now lay out in a fan across the earth, shaping her head and neck perfectly. Her blue eyes were shining and bewildered, and they stared up at him, stripped of the glasses that they wore like armor. Her breaths came in gasps, and he felt their warmth on his skin as he listened to her chest rise and fall to the tune of his. And what he said next only resulted in her entire face being devoured into a smile. And it was this smile that sent his head spinning and thoughts scattered. She made him crazy.

"You know I have fallen completely under your spell Cather."

* * *

**A thank you goes out to riversong for the review! hope to see more of you soon:)  
****I really hope you all enjoyed this chapter and please please please leave a review because they make me smile:)  
****Also, I have recently posted a Frozen Christmas special about the relationship of Elsa and Anna and a Hunger Games fanfiction about Haymitch's games. So please please please try those out and let me know what you think because I would really very much appreciate it!**

**Thanks for reading and there's more to come so stay tuned!:)  
-birdywings**


	15. Chapter 14: A Dangerous Gamble

14

A Dangerous Gamble

They were sitting in the kitchen, playing cards. Speed. Cath had taught Levi how to play. But she wasn't very good at relaying instructions or rules because when she was little, it had always been Wren who gave the orders. Who always won everything. Who was always liked by everyone. Card games were one of the few things Cath was always able to beat her sister at without fail each time. So as it turned out, she still had a trick or two up her sleeve.

He tossed his hands up in defeat after his fifth consecutive loss. "Ugh! How are you so fast? Have you been secretly training as a ninja since birth and are only now revealing the art of your practice to me?"

"That or I have cast a slow-motion spell on you without your noticing." She countered. She pulled her knees into her chest and collected the cards from the askew pile that lay between them. "Another round Commander Starbuck?" She asked, shuffling the cards in her hands, with an audacious hint to her tone and a challenging arc to her brow.

"Are you kidding? A brave man never quits." He sprang up into a straight posture that extended from the tips of his golden hairs, down the length of his neck and dipped along the small of his back. "And I believe the title is Lieutenant Starbuck, but commander is quite suitable as well."

His face was bedazzled with a smile that cradled a mouthful of gleaming white teeth, leaving Cath to hide her lips with the fan of cards she held, and she decided to smile with her eyes instead. But she was never the smiling type, so she wasn't entirely sure how to get some eye action going when she could barely make her lips move. The smiles were just another one of the many things Levi drew out of her. A pull that was so strong she had to throw a veil over what floated from the depths to the surface. She had to mask what he did to her. She had to conceal the truth of just how much influence he had on her. Of what he did to her inside and out with a those smiles his lips could bend into.  
He found her leg under the table and gently nudged her calf with the heel of his sneaker in an attempt to draw her out of her shell. And he was satisfied to find that his efforts were not in vain when the smile broke free in her lips.

She could have kissed him then. The space was narrow enough between them that she could hook her finger on the collar of his shirt and reel him in. Right where the collar spilt and dipped into a V below his neck. Where the buttons began and ran down the length of his chest. Where his heart beat just under the skin. Where a patch of skin peeked out beneath the fabric, the muscles underneath just as firm and finely drawn as his jaw. (God, he had an incredible jaw. And his chin...) Cath wanted to lose herself in the hollow of his jaw. His face made her want to carve it in the rough material of stone where history would remember it. She wanted to trace the outline of his frame and draw circles in his skin until she had memorized the every shadow, line, and plain of his face.

She could have kissed him then. She wanted to kiss him then. And she would have if his mom hadn't come flouncing into the room.  
She walked like Wren, hips swaying, flicking her hair away from her face as it bounced in tendrils behind her. And if Cath hadn't known better, for half a choking and heart-skipping moment, she swore it was She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named from the back. But then Marlisse would glance at her with a grimace tainting her features and a fire that she didn't try too hard to dim in the grey that swam in her irises, and the expression would be just enough of a swat across the face to jolt Cath back to her senses. This was the evidence that proved to Cath that the fire burning and the ice freezing she felt between them when present in the same room was mutual.

"Levi, I'm off to pick up the groceries for tonight. In the meantime, please scrub the grill so your father can start cooking as soon as he gets home." She called in a smooth voice and made her way to the door where she slid on her boots.

"Sure mom. And I don't know if you've heard, but Cath here sure is handy. And since you're in for the long haul when shopping for our family barbecues, I'm sure she would love to tag along, wouldn't you Cather?" He flashed her a devilish smile. It spread in his every feature. From the wrinkles in his forehead, to the quirk in his brow, to the crinkle at the corners of his eyes, to the tug in his lips. It was enough to cause the anger boiling in her stomach and crackling behind her eyes to dissipate. But not completely.

"Oh... er, no that's perfectly fine. I can manage. You two just enjoy your game." Her words were tense and curt with a little bit of an edge to bite at them. And Cath noticed this odd twitch to her lips as well as her brow. There was an uneasiness bouncing around in her eyes, the tip of the iceberg that refused to settle down. And in this, Cath saw something she recognized in herself.

"Nah, we're nearly done. Besides, I'm getting my ass handed to me anyway. You two go, you could use the time to bond."

Cath couldn't find the control to make her lips work. She couldn't find the words, and they couldn't find her. But she wasn't the only one at a loss for her voice.  
Even the struggle in Marlisse was evident. And so, with no protest rising up in either of them to argue their case.  
And despite al this, Cath still couldn't place her finger on what she saw in Marlisse that was so familiar. It was itching at her throat, hanging off the edge of her tongue. Yet, the words still couldn't find her on the blank page she was plagued with.

* * *

"Eggs, buns, cheese, pickles..."

The first thing Cath learned about Levi's mom, was that she preferred reading out loud. Cath didn't understand how she could do it. Speak the words so clearly and in such a smooth voice. When Cath read out loud she stumbled and choked on her words. Her voice cracked and broken. Her pace out of rhythm and choppy. Each time she read out loud she felt like she was learning how to speak for the first time, (which was apparently harder than she remembered). Levi didn't seem to mind though, and to be honest, she didn't really notice when in the midst of a story herself. But listening to Marlisse's voice, it was like a lullaby. Hushed and soothing. And it was as if she was not only passionate about the story she read, but the words as well. She even managed to make a grocery list sound interesting. As if the story was being stolen right out of her mouth.  
She was so entranced that Cath had to shake the daze from her mind.

They shuffled along, weaving and winding their way through the various aisles. They were boxed in by the shelves lined on either side, each one stocked top to bottom with assortments of food articles.  
Cath tried to make herself useful. Tried to pry the list from Marlisse's hands, or steal away the cart, or occupy herself with anything other than lugging behind in her tracks. But she would neither loosen her grip on the slip of paper nor unfurl her fingers from their grasp on the cart. Cath even offered to make a dash for the meat section where she could pick up the ground beef for the burgers. But her efforts were either simply shrugged or waved off.

It wasn't until they stopped at Starbucks for a pick-me-up that Cath was able to breathe for the first time in the last hour. She ordered a gingerbread latte at the counter, and received a warm smile from the barista at the till as he punched in her order. It was the kind of warm that oozed of kindness, and his teeth dazzled in the light, almost like they were dancing in his mouth. It was a nice smile, but frankly, not quite Leviean. The tug in his lips didn't quite reach his eyes. Not like Levi's smile did. When Levi's lips smiled, his entire body smiled with them. Nor did the gingerbread latte he had whipped up for her quite tickle her taste buds and melt down her throat and heat her stomach to a boil the way Levi made it.  
Cath waited, sipping her latte little by little, with enough distance hovering between them as Marlisse scanned the menu plastered to the wall.

"I don't come here often, what do you have that is non-fattening and low in sugar here?" She asked the barista. But Cath could tell from the dull look in her brown eyes that she really couldn't care less as she absentmindedly plucked at the ring protruding from the piercing in her nose. Her eyelids were dark with black liner and her hair was streaked with purple. Her eyes swept right over the look of distaste Marlisse gave her as easiy as if she had swept the expression under a rug.

"I recommend the gingerbread latte." Cath piped up, quickly capturing Marlisse's attention. "Levi still makes it better though." Her voice was steady. Her words firmer than Cath's quaking body felt. But she held her ground under the dragon's gaze. Spitting rain with her words while Marlisse spewed fire with her piercing glance.

"I'll have a gingerbread latte then." She told the barista without turning away from Cath.

A hint of a grin tinged Cath's lips. Because she saw it. The one similarity she would ever share with Marlisse. She saw the crazy in her that she felt in herself. Granted it was a different breed, but crazy nonetheless. And it was then that she realized that there was a little bit of crazy in everyone. And maybe that wasn't such a bad thing. And maybe she would never see eye-to-eye with Marlisse. Maybe they weren't going to be best buddies, or agree on everything. Maybe she was never going to have the mother/daughter relationship she never got with She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. But for now, just this once, Marlisse trusted Cath enough to take her word for it.

* * *

"So how did it go with the shopping?" Levi asked, drawing Cath from her swimming thoughts.

They sat around the pit where a fire crackled and cracked amongst the pile of wood. They held their skewers over the flames and watched the marsh-mellows slowly begin to met over the heat. The sky hung over them where the last remains of daylight began to fade into streaks of violent before melting away into a canvas of black. And one by one, the blaze of distant stars began to fleck the dome.

And Cath Avery was exhausted by the time dusk rolled around. It had been quite the eventful day. She got to meet the majority of Levi's family, all of whom attended the barbecue. She met of few of his uncles and aunts, (a of whom she couldn't remember the names of. But even as they told her them she knew she would immediately forget them), some of his cousins, (and believe it or not), a handful of his nieces and nephews. So Cath got to see first-hand the sparkling grin Levi wore when awing children with his spectacular Freeze-Tagging skills. And the sight of his face alight like that, the very picturesque image of his face coming to life like that, something inside Cath just melted. She also met his four blond sisters; (whom she actually managed to remember the names of), Pheobe, Mary, Esther, and Candace. (Not that she could remember which name belonged to whom). And finally, Levi's dad, who deemed Cath a smart and polite girl, which she took with a smile.  
Originally, Cath was under the impression that this barbecue was something they did on a regular basis. But, as it turned out, Marlisse had held it specifically for Cath.

"To prove to the family that her son is capable of dating good girls that aren't Reagan." Levi told her.

"Um, thanks?" He laughed, and drew her into his chest whereupon he pecked her temple gently.  
His lips were soft, and they made Cath want to feel them everywhere. To have them leave a ghost of their lips all over her skin.  
But now they sat around the fire, watching and counting the stars that sailed across the skies.

"It was okay I guess. I mean I haven't cried after interacting with her yet, so that must be a good sign." She told him as she chewed at her nails-a nervous habit she hadn't engaged in since her parents split up.

"See? I told you that you had nothing to worry about."

"Actually, you told me it didn't matter."

"I think I told you that I'm rooting for you, and I still am."

"Pick your battles Levi. It's me or your mom."

"You're forgetting Cather, I choose you over everyone."

"Give me one good reason your mom would even come remotely close to putting up with me."

"You're not Reagan."

"Good point," She admitted. "But that's still a dangerous gamble you're playing, fighting fire with fire and all."

"No, I'm fighting fire with rain."

"Right, because how else would we extinguish the flames the beast spits with its every breath?"

"Cather?" He had scooted closer. Close enough that she felt the warmth of his breath on her skin, and she had to resist the urge to try to catch it out of the air and swallow it. "C'mere, I want to show you something."

* * *

She got home late the next night. But no later than Wren of course.  
The house was dark when she stepped foot in the door, and seeing this, she hoped that her dad had long since retired for the night. That is, until she saw the little sticky note he left for her on the door. She blinked at the words written in sharpie until her vision adjusted to the dark.

_Left for Tulsa. Fucking-Kelley called emergency meeting...  
Be home in a few days._

_Love you,_

_-Dad_

She set her knapsack down and glanced back to wave Levi off. She stood in the door frame until the red glow of his truck's taillights had long disappeared into the evening fog. She shut the door, double-checking to make sure the lock was secure, before kicking off her boots and lounging on the couch with her limbs sprawled across the cushion.

"Hey, off my bed. Go crash in your own bed."

Cath bolted upright to find a figure standing in the midst of her living room. The darkness gathered around the outline of their frame, but it still took a moment for Cath's vision to adjust. Wide hips. Curves. Rigid frame, despite the height-though they weren't any shorter than Cath. Brusque tone. Curt with their words. Attitude written all over their stance.

"Reagan?" Cath whispered, rubbing the sleep from her heavy eyes.

"Duh." She spoke around the toothbrush that dangled from the bite in her teeth.  
She disappeared in the bathroom, and Cath heard the faucet run a minute and shut off before Reagan materialized out of the shadows again.

"Now get up, I'm tired."

With effort, Cath dragged her heavy limbs from the sofa and began the climb up the stairs to her room.

"How'd you get in here?" She asked, poking her head out from behind the wall.

"Wren spared me a key for emergency clashes with parties and the occasional hangover. Now go to sleep Bella."


	16. Chapter 15: These Streets

**Happy holidays guys!**

**Hope you all have a good vacation from the obligations of life with your families. Hope you enjoy the chapter and please review because reviews are all I want for Christmas:) This chapter title was inspired by the song 'These Streets' by Bastille,which is an incredible band that you must listen to and eventually go see live because they are the very definition of awesome when performing live in concert;)**

**More to come!**

**-birdywings**

* * *

15

These Streets

These streets were theirs... _With the ghosts of their young selves._

But she could keep them. He didn't want them... _Not when they taunted him._

Because they pulled him back and he surrendered to the memories he ran from... _A hand. A heartbeat. Being young and in love._

They had paved these streets with moments of defeat... _There was no good, only bye._

But even if they wouldn't admit it to themselves... _They were given to each other by life._

They would walk upon these streets and think of little else... _But life was a bastard. A cheat, a liar, and a thief. Life gave them to each other and stole them away._

So he wouldn't show his face here anymore. He wouldn't show his face here anymore... _He'd stopped trying to bring her back._

These streets were theirs... _With their love lost to the past._

But she could keep them. He didn't want them. He didn't want them... _Not when he hated everything they every stood for._

In his mind, it was like she haunted them... _With her words in that cool, defiant voice._

And passing through, he thought he saw her... _Red curls. Brown eyes. Scarves tied around her wrists. Neckties knotted in her hair._

In the shapes of other women... _All the wrong clothes. All the wrong smiles. Rounder and heavier in all the wrong places._

They had stained these walls... _And they made him think of the Impala, and all the places they had touched._

With their mistakes and flaws... _Eleanor ruining everything. Park not wanting to say goodbye._

But even if they wouldn't admit it to themselves... _They were lost, and what was lost could not be found._

They would walk upon these streets and think of little else... _Only a postcard. A postcard with all that was left of them._

So he wouldn't show his face here anymore. He wouldn't show his face here anymore... _He would stop coming back here. To this crappy little house._

All that was left behind... _Were the memories he ran from._

Was a shadow of his mind... _She only came back when she felt like it. In dreams. Lies. And broken-down deja vu._

All that was left behind... _Words written on letters waiting to be sent._

But a shadow comes upon the wall is a silhouette and nothing more... _Eleanor gone._

But even if they wouldn't admit it to themselves... _They couldn't go back. Even if they wanted to._

They'd walk upon these streets and think of little else... _Just three words long._

He wouldn't show his face here anymore. He wouldn't show his face here anymore... _Because nothing left in his life smelled like vanilla._

She didn't sit next to him on the couch. She didn't lean on him when they watched TV. She didn't read her poem like it wasn't an assignment. She didn't call him a dork when he thought about tracing circles in her skin, playing connect the dots with the freckles that gathered on her shoulders like cream rising to the top. She didn't cry when she thought of all the things he couldn't fix for her. She didn't wipe her tears on the sleeve of his shirt in the living room to hide the wreck she was under the skin she was stuck in from his mom. She didn't break down in his garage when her red curls were fluffed and her cheeks were powdered and her eyes were drawn in ink, like Eleanor with the volume turned up. She didn't keep him up all night worrying about her when she was sad and quiet. She didn't evade all the questions he had that she didn't want to answer. She didn't tell him it was lame when he said it wasn't goodbye or when they were too afraid to face what they were really feeling. She didn't snap or slur her words with sarcasm when she was mad at him. She didn't make every little thing so hard when it didn't have to be. She didn't show up at the bus stop when he had waited for her. She didn't occupy all the empty space in the Impala. Only the memory of her ghost did, like something straight out of a black and white photograph, the edges soft and the paper thin and wrinkled. His mom didn't flash him a look that asked him what he saw in that weird white girl when she stormed out the door. Nothing inside him broke when she didn't smile. Saturdays weren't the worst, and Mondays weren't the best. She wasn't there to break his collection of cassette tapes in alphabetical order when they littered the carpet in his room.

But she did break him. And she did keep him up all night with the memory of her still glowing on the inside of his eyelids. He heard her in the lyrics. In those first three seconds of 'Love Will Tear Us Apart', singing and jamming along with the beat of the drums and the strumming of the guitar. He saw her in the shapes of other women. In the curls of red before he realized they were more blond than red and that they didn't have fishing lures tangled in their spirals. He felt her in his heartbeat, (which didn't turn out to be as alive as Eleanor's hand felt), in every inch of skin she had touched on him. And every place she left a fingerprint or a kiss or a dent of the ridges on her teeth or a mark, burned as cold as ice. He felt her everywhere. The constant pain of her absence. He was still drunk on her. On the smudge of memory she was becoming.

Eleanor...

Eleanor ruining everything. Eleanor gone. And when there was nothing left of his life that smelled like vanilla, or was candy-sprinkled, or looked like a sad hobo clown, he'd stopped trying to bring her back. So why did he keep coming back? Why did he keep standing at the edge of this Goddamned curb in front of this Goddamned house? She wasn't here. She was never really here... So why did he have to keep reminding himself? The truck wasn't in the driveway. But that was okay, because Park wasn't sure what he would do if it were. And if it were, he wasn't sure if he would like what he would do. Or if he could bring himself to do it. Even that stupid Rottweiler was gone. And maybe that was it. Maybe everyone else had moved on but him. Maybe Park was the only one still walking these streets.

He didn't glare at the dilapidated heap the house now sat in. He didn't kick at the gravel with his toes. He didn't raise his fist or cry out in frustration. He just turned on his heel and made what he knew would be his last walk down these streets. And he didn't look back once. Which was why he missed the flash of curls that were more red than blond, and the shape that was rounder and heavier and made everyone else seem drabber and flatter and never good enough.


	17. Chapter 16: Haunt

**Hope you all had a good holiday:) Mine was enjoyable. Nice big turkey feast and a bunch of family traditions, which for some reason includes watching all three Lord of The Rings movies. (Don't even ask me how that started because I don't remember). It's pretty awesome though, don't get me wrongXD But yes, it was a good Christmas, the only thing we were missing was the snow! This chapter title was inspired by the song 'Haunt' by Bastille. Hope you enjoy and please review because they make me happy:)**

**More to come,**

**-birdywings**

* * *

16

Haunt

They would make their agreements about when to meet... _Tucked away on the back stoop of an elementary school._

And she would leave him in the doorway... _Disappearing before he could even think about saying goodbye._

The cold even ached... _Everywhere he touched her, his fingertips, his lips, his skin._

As it left in its wake... _The ghost of him everywhere._

All the memories left by the day... _Eyes so green they were almost yellow. Lips so soft that his kiss crowded out all the bad things. Skin so warm that his touch felt better than anything had ever hurt._

But she was questioning why... _Why did he even like her? Why did he need her? How could he want her like she wanted him? Why did she not like him? Why did she live for him? Why did every second feel so important?_

As he looked to the sky that was cloudless up above their heads... _And she could be Han Solo, and he could be Boba Fett. He would cross the skies for her._

And the thoughts came to mind... _Park. Park and the untouchable place he was tucked away in her mind._

That their short little lives... _If she couldn't even save her own life, was it even worth saving?_

Haven't left the path that they will tread. That they will tread... _She was running out of time with him. _

He would come back to haunt her... _That stupid Asian kid. Stupid, beautiful Asian kid. Stupid, beautiful, perfect Asian kid._

Memories would taunt her... _A scarf wound around fingers. A palm hanging between them. And she disintegrated. _

And she would try to love him... _When she could trust herself enough to be the walrus she was under the skin she was stuck in. The walrus who's tasted human blood and couldn't stop biting. The walrus after all the collateral damage was made._

It wasn't like she was above him... _He wasn't a boyfriend. He was a champion. And they weren't going to get break up. Or get bored. Or drift apart. (They weren't going to become another stupid high school romance). They were just going to stop._

The wisdom they learned... _If they weren't going to get married._

As their minds they do burn'll entice the naivety in youth... _If it wasn't forever._

As adults will grow and maturity shows the terrifying rarity of truth... _It was only a matter of time._

As they turned to their minds and their thoughts they rewind... _A bus. A song. A hand. _

To old happenings and things that are done... _There was no happy. Only endings._

She couldn't find what had passed but made the happiness last... _Dear Park._

Seeing from those eyes what she became. What she became... _So far gone the light wouldn't even catch in her eyes. So far gone she wasn't even thinking about him anymore._

He would come back to haunt her... _Nothing was shameful with him. Because Park was the sun. And that was the best way she could think to explain it. _

Memories would taunt her... _Stupid, beautiful, perfect Asian kid with his perfectly normal family and perfectly normal house with a pantry stocked with packages of ten different flavors of cookies._

And she would try to love him... _He saved her life. Not forever. Not for good. Probably just temporarily. But he saved her life. And now, she was his. The her that was her right now was his. Always._

It wasn't like she was above him... _I'm sorry. It's just. Just stop._

She will see him there..._ In dreams._

See him there... _In lies._

See him there... _And broken-down deja vu._

He would come back to haunt her... _Letters, postcards, and yellow-padded packages that rattled in her hands._

Memories would taunt her... _Something he wanted to show her. A dark alley. Ducking behind bushes in the shadows. Following him down a rabbit hole._

And she would try to love him... _A postcard from the land of 10,000 lakes._

It wasn't like she was above him..._ Just three words long._

They didn't read over each other's shoulders on the bus. They didn't sing softly to the lyrics playing from the walkman. They didn't listen to Joy Division or The Smiths or Aerosmith or U2 or The Misfits or XTC on the ride. She didn't read the material he gave her to survive with just enough light coming in from the window. She didn't listen to the tunes he gave her as a tool to escape until the batteries died at 1:00 am. He didn't paralyze her with his ninja magic, his Vulcan handhold. He didn't keep in a place inside her head that she thought nobody could touch. He didn't stand up or shift over when she stepped onto the bus. He didn't wait up for her at the bus stop. He didn't entwine his fingers in her curls at her locker in the hall. He didn't miss her when he was with her. He didn't whisper in her ear when they spoke from opposite ends of the same line, when they whispered the things they couldn't talk about on the bus to each other on the phone in the dark. He didn't show up at her door dressed like a superhero, or challenge her in hand to hand combat. He didn't show her new places. He didn't touch her and make her want to be touched. He didn't make her feel like the cannibal she was under the skin she was stuck in. He wasn't Mr. Fantastic, and she wasn't Mrs. Invisible. Saturdays weren't the worst, and Mondays weren't the best. He wasn't the reason for her tears. Or the reason for her anger. Or the reason for her happiness. He didn't make her cry. He didn't make her laugh. He didn't make her snap. And he didn't make her smile. And the world didn't rebuild itself around her when he was around.

But he did tear her apart. He ruined and broke her when he wasn't around. He made her crazy and lose control. He was the sun and she was the moon chasing the light of day away. He was the tourniquet she wanted to tie his arms around and lose herself to. And if she showed him just how much she needed him, he'd run away. And every inch of her he touched. Every freckle he left a fingerprint or kiss or mark, burned like the fire crackling inside her. The fire he left her with. She felt him everywhere. Heard his voice in the songs. Saw him in the streets. She was still hungover on the blur of memory he was becoming. The image of him was like water when the ripples scattered across its surface, all smudges and smears. It was getting harder to remember the exact color of his eyes, or the tone of his skin, or the shape of his face, where and when the edges ended and the corners rounded.

The truck wasn't in the driveway. Thank God it wasn't in the driveway. Eleanor didn't have the stomach to digest the splitting of old wounds. Of wounds and scars that never really healed but just barely managed to mend. And she was grateful for it,because she didn't want anyone to bear witness to what was left of her. What was left of Eleanor after the fall. Even that stupid Rottweiler was gone. And maybe that was it. Maybe everyone else had moved on but her. Maybe Eleanor was the only one still being haunted from the past. Or maybe not haunted, but rather _haunting._

She didn't glare at the crummy ramshackle troll cave for a house and hate everything it ever stood for. She didn't yell at the sky for all the misery her life was worth. She didn't collapse to the pavement and drown her sorrows in the tears that began to sting the backs of her eyes. She didn't scream her lungs dry for him, and she didn't cry for him. She simply spun on her heel and made what she knew would be her last trek down these haunted streets. And she didn't look back once. Which was why she missed the ghost with yellow-green eyes and honey skin lingering in the shadows, its frame illuminated under the glare of the sun breaking through the overcast that hung in the sky.


	18. Chapter 17: The Dynamic Duo

17

The Dynamic Duo

The hinges groaned under the weight of the door when Cath kicked at it with the heel of her sneaker. She could feel the heat of Eleanor's scowl singeing the hairs on the nape of her neck when it swung open with a slam. They felt the shudders rattle their bodies and cause their teeth to chatter as the sound pierced the air and reverberated into the night. Cath couldn't see how she still had the nerve to swivel and face Eleanor. To allow the blue in her eyes fall into the brown of Eleanor's. The two colors clashed, fighting fire with flames and spitting rain with water. Cath felt her grip tighten around the crate she carried in her arms, which she held like a barrier between them. Felt her all ten of her fingers navigate their way through the holes in between the plastic and ashen a shade paler with the tension crawling all up and down her skin. Where was there an invisibility cloak when you needed one?

Eleanor's features dissolved into an expression of disgust. Her eyes sharp around the corners, turning the brown coloring them a shade darker and her glare like daggers. Her lips pursed into a thin pink line. And her forehead wrinkled, her brow furrowed. It was almost as if she wasn't quite sure what to make of Cath. And, if she was honest, neither was Cath. And something escaped Eleanor's lips. Something rather throaty and vaguely coughy. Almost like a scoff, or a groan, but not quite. It came deep from inside her. Right from the very depths of her stomach. Right from the very heart of the demon living inside her.

Cath felt her eyes swell with water under Eleanor's glare as she stared, unyielding and without blinking. Eleanor huffed a breath of air out and pushed past her, allowing only a twitch of her regret to reveal itself at her terse manner when she shoved Cath slightly aside. God, she was a such a bitch when she wanted to be. Was everything she did-the actions she engaged and the words she spat like weapons-bitter and curt from up to down, from left to right in every which way possible? How long had she been this brittle? This cold and dark inside? How long had she allowed this to go on before she realized it was too late? How long had she known that right where he touched her. Right where he left a mark, a fingerprint, a scar. Right where he made her want to keep secrets and shed light in the darkest of places. Right where she tucked him away where she thought he would be safe and untouchable. Right where she held him like a secret, was where her demons hid? She wanted to hide the truth. She wanted to shelter him. But with the beast inside. There was nowhere for her to hide. There was nowhere for her to hide anymore. Because the demons crawling through the latticework of her veins were as much apart of her as she was of them. And there was no running. No hiding. There was only the shadows, and the fire burning up inside her.

The soles of their sneakers shuffled against pavement as they weaved their way through the darkness of the vacant parking lot, casting shadows across brick walls like a smear of charcoal across a finely drawn sketch. And Cath could see her breath when she exhaled. It bled from her mouth like smoke from a chimney and melted into the crisp air biting at her flushed cheeks and nipping at her nose. It was arguably the coldest night of the month. And the cold seemed so out of place when it clashed with the wave of sweltering August heat that was slowly washing over Omaha. She pursed her lips and tried to experiment with the shape of the fog seeping from her mouth.  
Eleanor shoved the crate she carried into Cath's already full hands, and Cath was almost tumbled to the pavement with the weight. As she regained her balance, her mind wandered to buildings and statues and even pyramids. Thinking about all the layers that are stacked like the layers of a cake to build the body of a structure one brick at a time.

Eleanor curled her fingers around the handle and lifted the lid with a creak. She then snatched a crate from Cath, grazing her skin slightly with the yellow plastic, and tilted the basket over the lip of the edge. And like a waterfall cascading over the lip of a cliff, the books fell one by one into the bin. There was everything from hard covers to paperbacks. From fantasy to contemporary. From drama to comedy. From angst to romance. From Edgar Allan Poe to J. R. Tolkien. From Suzanne Collins to Veronica Roth. From _The_ _Hardy Boys_ to _Nancy Drew_. From _I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings_ to _The Help._ From _The Outsiders _to _The Perks Of Being A Wallflower._ Eleanor tapped her toes like Dorthy did with her ruby sleepers, only she wasn't wishing to return home, but rather hoping that these novels could make someone somewhere in the world feel less alone. And Cath's eyes rolled in her skull as they followed the star crossing the navy skies, and she crossed her fingers with the hope that maybe. Just maybe, the words written across these pages wouldn't cause the reader to disappear like they did her, but rather inspire them to write their own story.

"I kind of feel like a hero somehow." Cath blurted, too little, too late to bite her words back.

"What?" Eleanor snapped. God, it felt like everything inside her was snapping. Every bone, every organ, every joint, every muscle, every vein, every cell. All that she was composed of snapping until there was nothing left. Nothing to damage or crack or shrivel or wither or snap or splinter or shatter or break when there was nothing left of her. Not even the pieces to pick up. But she was never really whole to begin with. She never really had her shit together. So, what was the point? What was her life worth? If she couldn't save it then, and she couldn't save it now, was it even worth saving? She didn't know. She didn't know. And she didn't want to find out.

"Uh, er..." Cath stumbled, her tongue failing her not for the first time, and most certainly not the last. "I don't know, I just sort of feel like I'm doing these books justice. Doing literature justice by swooping in and saving them from their demise and all, like a superhero ought to..." She trailed off, listening to her words fade into the silence hovering between them.

Eleanor gripped the lip of the bin, letting Cath's words sink in as the tension deflated from her every muscle. "Like Batman and Robin." She breathed, her voice barely loud enough to pierce the silence.

A smile broke free in Cath's lips. A tentative smile of course. It spread like peanut butter, slowly and then all at once. Sticky and thick, but a smile nonetheless. "Yeah, exactly... Like the dynamic duo." She beamed. She couldn't help it.

"Fighting crime."

"Righting wrongs."

"Serving every flavor of justice on a silver platter."

"Dark."

"Mysterious."

"Misunderstood." They let the last of Eleanor's word wash over them, the letters dark and murky.

"If you could have a power... Any power at all... What would you want?" Eleanor breathed, her voice shaking on the way out. Her eyes were fixed on the ground, on the grey cement that was hidden between her feet.

"I'd want to be invisible..." Cath whispered, more to herself than to Eleanor. "How about you?" She asked timidly, like she was anticipating the flames to fly from Eleanor's fingertips any second now. Or the heat to boil behind the brown in her irises and cause Cath to combust from where she stood. Or the daggers to come slicing through the space between them with Eleanor's next words. But her eyes only found Cath's through the darkness. And they seemed to grow a shade darker in the dim light, like two black holes in her head. And even in the shadows, Cath could see clearly from where she stood that they were a shade of black that was nothing but sad of emptiness and bitter of the darkness.

"I'd want to fly." She told Cath.

_You can. And you will.  
_Was all Cath could think in response.

"I know it's not very useful, but..." She elaborated. "it's _flying._"

"_Yes._" She answered.

Eleanor was going to reply. Eleanor would have replied, if not for the hand that clamped over her mouth and pressed her lips closed. Cath was going to scream. Cath would have screamed, if not for the hand that slapped her lips shut and muffled her shouts. She felt the screams rising up in her throat and scratching at her vocal chords. And she was torn apart inside out by terror and fear.

* * *

**Hey everyone,**

**Just getting back into the routine of work and school so updates will sadly have to come second.:( And I'm sorry that this chapter is short and, admittedly, not my best:P  
A big thank you goes out to nerd . com and suki for their reviews. Thanks so much! I look forward to your feedback always:D  
So I'm thinking three more chapters? I'm already stretching it as it is, I didn't think I would reach twenty when I last updated but I managed and now I'm happy:D But before I completely seal the deal for my conclusion to this story, is there anything else you guys want to see? Anything else you want to read from these beautiful characters? I'm taking requests in now if you would like to make some, but I'll have to apologize in advance if I can't fit it in my story in a way that it will flow properly now that we're nearly at the end. But I will try my best I promise!:)  
Comment and review please!**

**More to come,**

**-birdywings**

**P.S. I'm planning on writing the story of Park's parents sometime after I finish writing this one... any interest?:)**


	19. Chapter 18: Emergency Dance Party

18

Emergency Dance Party

Levi moved his lips when he counted. Like the numbers were being stolen right out of his mouth. He flipped through the CDs. Taking note of each album title and the artist or band. There was everything from Aerosmith to The Rolling Stones. From Billy Joel to Madonna. It was an endless stack of music just waiting to sing and play on a single disk. It occurred to him that Park didn't sell anything other than the tunes of the 80s at Drastic Plastic. And not only that, but he wouldn't even allow anything other than the 80s on his shelves. When Levi had asked why that was sometime a week after he was hired, Park told him it was because nothing could beat the classics. And Levi agreed because, despite his ill manner and bad attitude, Park was wise. But at the same time, only correct to an extent on some level.

He cracked a case open and popped the CD into the player. He punched the play button, threaded the headphones on his head and over his ears and turned the volume all the way up. The speakers crackled to life with the intro to 'How Soon Is Now?'. Levi closed his eyes and imagined the two hands caressing the guitar, and all ten of their fingers dancing across the strings as they strummed the chords. He saw the sticks pounding away at the drums. Pounding away to the beat of his heart. The music pulsed through his veins and he absorbed the story The Smiths were trying to tell him word for word. It was as if the lyrics spilling from the smoky voice that sang out were speaking to him. Whispering in his ears. And for Levi, it just wasn't enough to revive the classics. It wasn't enough to resurrect the birth of rock.

He yanked the headphones out of the stereo and cranked the volume until the voices in his head couldn't be heard even if they screamed. The windowpanes shook and shuddered with the vibrations of the music. The speakers blared in his ears, and he couldn't hear his heart beat under the thumping of the drums. And his skin crawled with goosebumps as the chords were strummed in the strings of the guitar. He sang along, softly at first. But that was what musice did, it drew something out of people. Something alive and free. A voice waiting to be heard. Energy waiting to break down on the dance floor. He was thrumming with the instruments and wailing with the voices. And it still fascinated him that so many little pieces could be scrambled together until they fell into sync and made a rhythm all their own. Pieces from vocal chords and voices to the low rumble of drums. From piano keys to guitar notes. From sharps to flats. From majors to minors. All the ingredients of sound combined to create the recipe of a song.

The music cut. The voices were silenced. The words faded. The tremors that rattled the building went still. The space drained of its energy. The sticks dangled over the drums, the hands hovered over the keys, and the fingers threaded themselves in between the strings but did not yet strum the chords. And the room held its breath, waiting for the notes to be played. The floorboards creaked beneath him with the approaching footsteps, and Levi could feel the heat of Park's glare singeing the hairs on the nape of his neck before he even turned around.

* * *

It never really occurred to Cath what she would do in the situation of an abduction. She figured her first action would be activated by the animal section of the brain. The corner where the gears and motors of a brain ran on pure instinct. The part in everyone that would do anything to keep living no matter the cost or consequences, however dire they may be. She thought her first impulse would be to run. Run like she'd never run before, (or more like she'd never run the way she had in high school gym class). Run like her feet caught fire. Run like she was high on adrenaline. Run like she'd never run again. Run like she was sprinting the last leg of a long marathon. Run like she was trying to bolt off the edge of the earth. Run like she was running to save her life. But her feet wouldn't move, her arms were frozen at her sides, her knees buckled beneath her, and her legs turned to jelly.

So, she figured her second action would be activated by the human section of her brain. The corner where the gears and motors turned in the opposite direction. Where instinct was converted into thoughts, and impulse was formulated into plans or ideas. Where things functioned and were analyzed thoroughly before being implemented into verbal or physical actions. But her mind was wiped blank and she couldn't hear her thoughts echoing in her head over the thumping of her heart. And even more so, the trembling of her body.

And Cath didn't have those two sides in her. The animal and the human. Her brain didn't function like everyone else's. There was no instinct, and there was no formulating. There was no animal and there was no human. She was just crazy all over. From corner to corner. So that was what Cath was waiting on to save her, the crazy running rampant around inside her.

* * *

Eleanor never thought she would go out this way. She never really thought she would go out any way. She never thought about dying. The years had dragged on so long since she felt alive for not only the first but last time as well that she figured she might as well already be dead. She only thought about stopping. Stopping until there wasn't a sound, movement, or breath left of her. Jumping from something so high she'd never hit the bottom. Running until her feet fell off. Running until her lungs burned. Running until she couldn't catch her breath. Running until she couldn't run anymore. And she would keep running with the only thing to see for miles being a streak of black of a stretch of road.

But now, she only saw Cath. And the fear that didn't swim in the blue leaking in her irises so much as drown in the color, thrashing and clawing for a gasp of air in the deep waters. Eleanor waited for the fire to burn in her stomach. For the fight for her life to rise up in her fingers and throat as she was shoved into the backseat of a car. Or at least, what she made out to be backseat of a car judging by the leather cushioning and weird vehicle odor. (There was a black cloth tied over her eyes, rendering her blind to her surroundings). But it wasn't there. And it wasn't that the fire had dissipated, or burned out, or whisked away by a gust of wind. It was that she couldn't even save herself. And if she couldn't even save her own life, was it even worth saving?

* * *

"What is that?" Park demanded. His voice was strained, his words thick and sticky against his lips. He couldn't bring himself to avert his gaze from the cover. From the artwork that was plastered to the case and drew a sketch of a man with his half his face hidden in shadow.

"Um, The Smiths?"

Park didn't even flinch. He couldn't stop staring, and he thought that maybe he w_ouldn't _stop staring. As if he was not only incapable of looking away, but maybe he just didn't want to. Maybe he only noticed what he wasn't supposed to and saw what he wanted to. And now. Now he saw this. The Smiths, and the sounds they created caressed in Levi's palm. And maybe it was the same with sound. Maybe he only heard what wasn't meant for his ears. And it occurred to him that maybe that was why people whispered. But he heard it. He heard what he wasn't supposed to. And he, Park wasn't sure what he wanted to hear next.

But, apparently, his fingers were. And somewhere in some deep and forgotten place inside him, Park was sure too. He felt it in his fingers. In the twitch of his muscles. In his throat and on the edge of his lips. Flowing through the latticework of his veins and in the thuds of his heart. In every mark, scar, and dent she left in his skin. He was sure of her. And he was sure of what song he was going to play next.  
He reached over Levi's lanky shoulder and pressed play. And Levi reached up like he was pulling a lever out of the air and thought to himself that an emergency dance party was long overdue.

_I am the son._

_And the heir._

* * *

Eleanor felt the her palms run cold, (which was strange considering they were slick with sweat). She felt a palm over her lips, and dug her teeth into the skin. Hard.

"Shit!"

Cath's head quirked up, her ears twitching at the voice. That voice. She knew that voice...  
"Reagan?"

"Jesus Cath," She muttered, jerking her hand away from Eleanor's mouth. "Where the fuck did you find this one?"

"Didn't I tell you Reagan?" Cath whirled in the other direction, her eyes scanning wildly through the faded black of the fabric that was tied over her face and rendered her sightless. "Cath has awful taste in her chums."

"If she had any taste at all." Reagan mumbled in between her lips.

"Wren?"

"Who else would be bored enough on a Friday night to kidnap you and your elderly friend over here?" Her words were thick and slurred only in the slightest. And Cath didn't have to catch a whiff of the alcohol on her warm breath to guess that she'd been drinking.

"More like elderly and hostile..." She heard Reagan mutter under her breath.

"Are you drunk?" She asked into the void of darkness in the evening, not knowing in which direction to speak. And somewhere in the back of her mind, she was wondering what time it was. Knowing Wren, (And she knew her like the back of her hand), it was probably late.

"Just been lightly sipping and possibly hopping from one club to the next throughout the night. Don't worry mother, I am mostly sober at the moment."

Cath rolled her eyes as far back into her skull as they could go. "That's reassuring."

"Say Cath, did you always wear glasses?" She studied Cath's features in between blinks as she pried the cloth from her face. Like she was trying to get a clear focus of her in the dark. Or like she was trying to determine if Cath was really there.

Cath bit the inside of her cheek and shook her head. "No Wren, I have not been wearing glasses since grade school." She tried to leave her every word trickling with sarcasm, but even that wasn't enough to sober up her sister.

"Riiiiiiight. Knew that. I totally knew that didn't I? Oh hey, echo!" Her voice traveled down the lane, and reverberated off the buildings of brick, sidewalks of pavement, and roads of asphalt.

"Hey, anyone mind telling me who the hell these people are?" Eleanor demanded.

Reagan unraveled the rag from over Eleanor's face and held her steady when she lost her balance and stumbled over her feet. "Relax, we're her amigos."

Cath slung Wren's arm over her shoulder and lifted her steadily on her feet, supporting her weight as much as she could take. "Come on, let's get you home."

"No," Wren whined, her breath tinted of beer but not yet reeking of it. Yet. "We were supposed kidnap you and Red over here," She waved Eleanor off as a way of a gesture, but couldn't quite deduce where she was standing. "And we were going to steal Levi away from a night of work and jam to Kanye tunes all night long."

"Okay, Kanye equals an emergency. So what's the emergency Wren?"

"Fun Cath!" She tossed her arms over her head for emphasis. "I am in dire need for some fun. I haven't done anything other than schedule appointments and file papers all summer and I need some fun!"

"Where's Jandro?"

"Jandro drove up to see the family for the weekend." She giggled to herself, the flush rising in her cheeks as his name leaked from her lips. "And no, I don't need a babysitter if that's what you're asking. Now come on, please?"

Cath pinched the smile in her lips into a thin line and shook her head once. Twice. Three times, and was surprised at the next words to roll off her tongue.  
"Okay, let's go."

* * *

There was a knock at the window. And Levi almost didn't hear it under the blare of the stereo. He turned the dial down and shuffled around Park, who bobbed and broke down to the music, leaving shoe prints in the coat of dust matting the floorboards. He pried the drapes apart and drew them aside. And in the window was a face. Levi drew back in shock. He felt his hand retreat to his chest, a little over to the left, just where his heart beat underneath the skin. And he felt it pound in his palm and crawl into his throat. And it took him a moment to realize that it was Wren at the window.

She was pressed tightly against the glass so that her breath fogged the clear cut surface. She was smiling like a maniac. Like she was either wearing the Cheshire cat's face like a mask or he was hiding in her eyes and lips. He pressed the heels of his hands to the will and peered through the glass. And before he knew it, she was gone. Disappearing into the night and across the street where Catch stood in between Reagan and some stranger with curls that burned in the dark. She looked so small in between them. Not just in size or height, but like she was shrinking inside herself.

Were they holding her hostage?

Was she holding a beer?

* * *

The bell hanging by the door across the street chimed, ringing into the night, and he stepped out. Emerging from the shadows brighter than ever. Because nothing was shameful with him. Because he was the sun. And that's the only way she could think to explain it. He was the brightest light in the night, nothing could dim him. Eleanor's heart didn't stop. It didn't hold its breath in between beats or pause mid-beat either. If anything, it just beat faster. And she wondered if that was what it felt like to have a heart attack... Or did it just feel like someone pounding on your chest with a mallot? She didn't know. She didn't know. But she wanted to find out. She wanted to know whether she was dying, or living. Or if he had paralysed her with his Vulcan handhold.

* * *

The light fell from the street lamp and spilled down her frame, and her hair caught fire in the ember glow. The freckles were sprinkled across her shoulders and nose and everywhere where she had skin, (which was everywhere), and it was like cream rising to the top. She was dressed in rags like she had always been. In jeans torn with holes and pieces of fabric sewn into the denim and scarves knotted around her wrists and fishing lures wound in her red curls. She looked like a sad hobo clown. And he, Park loved it. And he wondered whether this was what it felt like to breathe or to suffocate.

* * *

They stood across from each other. On opposite ends of the same street. He could have reached for her. And she could have reached for him. He would have touched her. And she would have touched him. The crickets counted the seconds by from a distance, with their chirps being the only sound for miles. And it was twenty-six seconds that ticked by for the twenty-six years that were stolen from their past. Lost to their future. And wasted apart.

But here they were. They could feel the heat of everyone's gaze on their skin. The scorch of four pairs of eyes sizzling on their backs. And Eleanor and Park felt radiactive. They felt untouchable. And they weren't about to waste another minute or lose another second. But they weren't going to steal the moment either. Because here they were, standing on opposite ends of the same streets. And no one saw what was coming next. Not Reagan. Not Levi. Not Wren. Not Cath. Not Park. Not even Eleanor. Especially not Eleanor. And it didn't even surprise her when it happened. She wasn't even thinking or even aware of her feet carrying her toward him and her hand sweeping across his face and leaving nothing but a print of her palm on his honey skin. And yet, what happened still wasn't what ended up surprising her. But that she wasn't surprised or even shocked was what stunned and possibly even terrified her.

* * *

**Hey everyone!**

**Okay, I feel a lot more confident with this chapter:) anddddddd I have some news! Okay, if you haven't already heard, PREPARE YOURSELVES. RAINBOW ROWELL IS WRITING CARRY ON SIMON AND ITS BEING PUBLISHED THIS FALL! YES. YOU READ THAT RIGHT. SIMON FREAKING SNOW IS GOING TO BE AN ACTUAL NOVEL! honestly I don't think anyone is more excited than I am:D I don't love Rainbow's books, I am IN love with them. And I actually screamed inside out when I read this news so yeah I am freaking out guys!XD annnd a collector's edition of Fangirl is coming out in May!:) god I want to scream out to the sky I am so flipping excited guys! So leave your thoughts and mark the dates on your calenders so we can fangirl together!:)**

**Hope you enjoyed this chapter and please comment and review!:)**

**More to come!**

**-birdywings**


	20. Chapter 19: Just Three Words Long

19

Just Three Words Long

He couldn't speak. He couldn't move. He couldn't find the words. And he couldn't even make his lips work. He was struck dumb by her touch. And it seemed so unfair that she could still do that to him. That after all this time, he was still drunk on her. After all the bottles of lies and broken promises he'd emptied of her, he was still intoxicated. Still dizzy and disoriented with the very sight of her. Still stumbling when he saw a flash of curls that were more red than blond. Still blinking the memory of her, (which had faded and smudged over the years where she was never really sharp but slurred and round and soft. Where she was heavy and rather abundant with too much of everything and too little height to hide it all), into focus.

And it was still her touch that made him feel again. Where his body felt numb, and his limbs were heavy. Every inch of skin where she left a mark, a dent, a scar, he felt her. He felt her touch, and it was like a butterfly. Or a heartbeat. Like something complete, and completely alive. And it felt better than anything had ever hurt. She felt better than anything had ever hurt. And when she slapped him. When her palm flew across his face, he felt her everywhere. And it was like waking up in the morning and realizing it was Sunday. Like the first gasp of air after a long dive. Like flying after the fall. Like being complete, and completely alive.

But he'd stop trying to bring her back. She only came back when she felt like it. In dreams, and lies, and broken-down deja vu. Like, he'd be driving to work and he'd see a girl with red hair standing at the corner. And he'd swear for half a choking moment that it was her. But then he'd see that the girl's hair was more blond than red. And that she was holding a cigarette... And wearing a Sex Pistols T-shirt. Eleanor hated the Sex Pistols. Eleanor...  
Standing behind him until he turned his head. Lying next to him just before he woke up. Making everyone else seem drabber and flatter and never good enough. Eleanor ruining everything. Eleanor gone. So he'd stopped trying to bring her back.  
But sometimes, he didn't need to.

And here she was. Standing across from him. And he was still struck with her touch because he would never be able to get enough of her. And he was going to respond-whether with his mouth or his eyes or his hands he didn't know. But he was going to respond. And he would have responded if Eleanor hadn't beaten him to it by hooking her fingers on the collar of his black U2 T-shirt and paralyzing him with her lips against his. And even after all this time. All these wasted years. All the lies and broken promises, the touch of her lips against his was even less terrible than the first or second time.

* * *

Stupid Asian kid. Stupid beautiful Asian kid. Stupid beautiful perfect Asian kid.  
What right did he have to show up like this? To tear her apart all over again? And just after she'd not exactly mended or healed so much as threw the pieces together and just barely managed to pick herself up. She was never really whole to begin with. But that still didn't make anything any easier. It didn't make Park easier. Or herself. Or whatever they were now. But after sitting on the wall and having a great fall, and after trying to glue the pieces back together in several futile attempts to make herself whole, Eleanor was tired of ending up like Humpty Dumpty.

Thank God she couldn't make her lips work right now, (mainly because they were enveloped around Park's the way a little girl would make Barbie kiss Ken. Just smashing their faces together), because there would be no end to the melodramatic garbage she would say. And she was practically eating his face clean off with her mouth as far back down his throat as she could reach. God, here came the calateral damage. But what could she say? After all, he brought out the walrus in her. The cannibalistic walrus who's tasted human blood and just couldn't seem to stop biting.

* * *

Eleanor... Red hair. Wrong clothes. Standing behind him until he turns his head. Lying beside him just before he wakes up. Making everyone else seem drabber and flatter and never good enough... Eleanor.

* * *

Park... He knows she'll love a song before he plays it for her. He laughs at her jokes before she ever gets to the punch line. There's a place on his chest, just below his throat, that makes her want to keep promises... Park.

* * *

He tried to remember the first time he saw her. Because he could remember, on that day, seeing what everybody else saw. He could remember thinking that she was asking for it... That it was bad enough to have curly red hair. That it was bad enough to have a face shaped like a box of chocolates. No, he hadn't thought exactly that. He'd thought... That it was bad enough to have a million freckles and chubby baby cheeks. He remembered thinking that it was bad enough that she looked the way she did. He remembered feeling embarrassed for her. And now... Well, it's up to you to fill in the blanks.

* * *

Seeing him some place she'd never seen him before-and she really wasn't predicting that this was how her Friday night would unravel-was at least twice as nice as seeing him somewhere she expected him to be.

* * *

"Eleanor," Her name rolled off his tongue when he managed to catch his breath, and it tasted so good. It tasted sweet where words were sour and bitter, and succulent where they were dry and bland and difficult to swallow. He curled his fingers on the cuff of her sleeve and tugged on it, letting her full weight fall against him. "Come here, I want to show you something."

And she, Eleanor laughed.

* * *

It was dark. And they were quiet. The shutters were closed, the drapes drawn, and the lights dimmed. And that night, in the darkness of the silhouetted sketch of the bedroom, Eleanor and Park shed and peeled their skin of all their layers. And if the lights were on, if the shutters were open, and the drapes parted, and if you were watching them now, you would think that they did this kind of thing all the time. Not just the few times before. But this time was already different.

For one thing, they weren't moving in orderly steps, not like a game of Mother May I. And for another, they just wouldn't let go of each other. So Eleanor fell flat on the bed, and Park fell against her. The whole affair could be described accurately in two words; big, and, awkward. They weren't even kissing each other square on the mouth because lining things up neatly would take took long. And they were hungry. Their stomach gnawed at thier insides for each other. Their throats parched of a thirst that just couldn't seem to be quenched. But we forgive them because the senses must feast while there may yet still be hunger. So she proceeded to eat his face clean off one bite after another, and he went on to drink her in one sip at a time.

* * *

She tried to tell him she was sorry for yesterday...

* * *

And he tried to tell her that yesterday happens...

* * *

Eleanor felt so good underneath, even better than he remembered. (And he remembered she felt like heaven, plus nirvana, plus that scene in _Willy Wonka_ where Charlie starts to fly). He was breathing so hard, it almost felt like he forgot how to breathe. Like his lungs forgot how to be lungs. And when he laid her down on the duvet, (which couldn't be classified as a bedspread or even a blanket so much as the tattered remains of a white sheet), she stole his breath away. The sight of her. Like a vision. Or a mermaid. Cool white in the darkness, the freckles gathered on her shoulders and cheeks like cream rising to the top. The sight of her. Park was breathless. He couldn't catch his breath. And he couldn't find any air. And he was still trying to convince himself that she was really there, lying there before his eyes in the darkness and not lingering as a vision under his eyelids when he blinked.

* * *

Things Eleanor was reminded of now that she had forgotten:

-Park was covered with skin. Everywhere. And it was all just as smooth and as honey-beautiful as th skin on his hands. It felt thick and richer in some places, more like crushed velvet than silk. But it was all his. And all wonderful.

-She was also covered with skin. And he skin was apparently covered with super-powered nerve ending that hadn't done a damn thing her whole life, but came alive like fire and ice and bee stings as soon as Park touched her. Wherever Park touched her.

-As embarrassed as she was of her stomach and her freckles and the fact that her bra was held together with two safety pins, she wanted Park to touch her more than she could ever feel embarrassed. And when he touched her, he didn't seem to care about any of those things. Some of them he even liked. Like her freckles. He said she was candy-sprinkled.

-She wanted him to touch her everywhere. Every inch of her that had skin. (Which of course, was everywhere). He seemed to read her every expression. Her every touch. Her every breath. He read her like a book, and he didn't withhold any words, sentences, or paragraphs. Not a single chapter of Eleanor went unread by his lips or unexplored by his fingertips. And she didn't stop him. She would never be the one to stop him. When Park touched her, it felt better than anything she'd ever felt in her whole life. Ever. And she wanted to feel that way as much as she could. She wanted to stock up on him.

-Nothing was dirty with Park. Nothing was shameful. Because Park was the sun, and that was the only way she could think to explain it.

-She was taken. Paralyzed by his Vulcan handhold.

* * *

The shadows gathered around her frame, coiling around her curls, and she looked like Eleanor with the volume turned up.

* * *

The darkness made his eyes glow in the dark, and the pale color was practically translucent, and possibly even a little unsettling. He looked dangerous in the dark. Like Park with the volume turned way up.

* * *

Eleanor was right. She never looked nice. She looked like art, and art wasn't supposed to look nice. It was supposed to make you feel something.

* * *

Park's face was like art. And not weird, ugly art either. Park had the sort of face you painted because you didn't want history history to forget it. He was beautiful. Breathtaking. Like the person in a Greek myth who makes on of the gods stop caring about being a god. His skin was the shade of the sun and as soft as she imagined clouds to feel. And his eyes were so green that they could convert carbon dioxide into oxygen. Maybe then she wouldn't find it so hard to breathe.

* * *

Eleanor's hair caught fire at dawn and came to a soft red point on the back of her neck. A whole galaxy of freckles was splashed across her face and sprinkled on her shoulders. They twinkled like stars in the dim light, and he kissed every single one of them like he was connecting and searching for the constellations hidden amongst them. Her eyes were dark and shining. Her lips dissolved into a smile. She had the kind of smile you see on toothpaste commercials, where you could practically see all of somebody's teeth. And her mouth kind of looked like the Joker's - depending on who was drawing him - really wide and curvy. She should smile like that all the time. It made her face crossover from weird to beautiful. He wanted to make her smile like that constantly. And when Eleanor smiled, something inside him broke. Something always did.

* * *

All she did when they were apart was think about him, and all she did when they were together was panic. Because every second felt so important. And because she was so out of control, she couldn't help herself. She wasn't even hers anymore, she was his. He made her feel like more than the sum of her parts when he touched her. And she just wanted to break him into pieces and love him all to death.

* * *

He couldn't even begin to imagine what his face contorted into when he touched Eleanor. Like someone taking the first sip in a Diet Pepsi commercial... Over-the-top-bliss. He loved everything about her. Right from the answers she had for everything, and the flame burning inside that sometimes became too hot to handle, and the fact that she was sad and quiet and kept him up worrying about her every single night since 1986. He loved her freckles, and her firey red curls, and that her skin was the color of the sky. He loved her smile that was crooked and twisted in all the wrong places but fit perfectly on her lips in all the right angles and for all the right reasons. He loved that she still looked worse than a sad hobo clown, and that she still smelled of homemade birthday cake. And he especially loved her name, he didn't want to cheat himself out of a single syllable. And he wanted everyone to meet her, she was his favorite person of all time.

* * *

There's only one of him. And he's right here. He knows she'll like a song before she's heard it. He laughs before she even gets to the punchline. There's a place on his chest, just below his throat, that makes her want to let him open doors for her and keep promises. There's only one of him.

* * *

She could be Han Solo, and he would be Boba Fett. He'd cross the skies for her.

* * *

He saved her life. Not forever. Not for good. (Probably just temporarily.) But he saved her life. And now, she was his. The her that was her right now was his, always.

* * *

Holding Eleanor's hand was like holding a butterfly. Or a heartbeat. Like holding something comeplete, and comepletely alive. The first time he touched her hand, he'd known. His arms were sure of her.

* * *

The first time he'd held her hand, it felt so good it crowded out all the bad things. It felt better than anything had ever hurt.

* * *

Park was alive, and Eleanor was awake. And this was allowed. She was his, and he was hers. They were theirs. To have and to hold. Not forever-maybe not forever, for sure-and not figuratively. But literally. And now. Now she was his, and he was hers. And they wouldn't want it any other way.

* * *

He felt the warmth of her breath on his bare skin as she whispered in his ear. And it was something that made him smile, and filled his head with song lyrics. And he felt something heavy and winged take off from his chest. She whispered in his ear. Breathing into his skin. Just three words long.

* * *

**Oh my gosh guys! I think this was by far my favorite chapter to write. Just so many intimate feelings and emotions and the quotes! Rainbow! WHY YOU DO THIS TO MY HEART?:'( seriously, I feel like my chest was just beaten with a mallot. Also, this was definitely a new little subject for me to write about so it was exciting and nerve racking at the same time...but I hope I did a good job:) **

**Okay, time to breathe. So, one chapter left you guys! In the meantime please please please review your thoughts and opinions... What's your favorite chapter so far? Least favorite? Leave reviews!:D hope you all have a good weekend! I myself will be enjoying my recently newfound obsession Downtown Abbey:D hell yeah! So excited! **

**Until next chapter! **

**-birdywings**


	21. Chapter 20: To Infinity & Beyond

20

To Infinity &amp; Beyond

They were sitting in the living room, playing cards. Speed. Somehow, Park remembered how to play. The memory must have been in his muscles somewhere, hidden in his fingertips just under the skin. Because even though Park felt younger and more alive than he ever had in the last twenty-six years, (and he really did. Seriously, it was as if the youthful blood of his sixteen year old self had suddenly seeped into his veins and pumped the life back into the rotting corpse of his forty-two year old self. Talk about a blast from the past. He felt like he just materialized from the big screen of _Back To The Future_ but in reverse, like Back To The Past), he just wasn't as sharp around the edges as he once was. So that left his mind to catch up with his hands before he ran out of cards. His fingers were all up in knots by the end. But where Park was blunt and dull, Levi was sharp. And he seemed to do everything with ease... And while leaning. (Everything he did was while leaning). Life was like Sunday morning in Levi's hands. But his long fingers, gangly limbs, and lanky frame were all built more for a marathon rather than a sprint. But with Park's strategy and Levi's stamina, they made a good team.

But even in her old age, Eleanor still had it though. Her hands moved in a blur of skin and freckles. Like lightening. Or a flash. Like a flash of lightening. And she kept surprising him when he thought he already knew all there was to know about her. She kept revealing buried secrets under the skin and opening doors for him where the hinges were rusted shut. And If Eleanor was the hands, then Cath was the mind. She saw things before they occurred. She felt it in the twitch of her eyelids and the tremble of her fingertips. Everything just clicked inside. And where the pieces were jagged and cracked along the edges on the inside, they came together on the outside. She played like she'd never played before. Like she was on the edge of her seat, on the edge period. Like she wasn't afraid of playing the game wrong. Eleanor was the speed and Cath was the mind. Eleanor was the lightning and Cath was the thunder. They were one mind and a pair of hands operating in two different bodies.

The front door swung open, (because that's how Reagan always entered the room, with her hands full), and in flounced Wren with her hips swaying and short hair swishing followed by Reagan.

"Wren and Reagan in the house!" Wren shouted, a little too loudly.

"Did you really just say that? Tell me you didn't just say that. I'd much rather like to hear you tell me that my ability to hear is wavering with my age." Eleanor said, rubbing her fingertips all up and down her temples.

"No, she said it." Levi confirmed for her, taking a handful of Dorito chips from the bowl in the middle of their semicircle, which had shifted into an oval. Or maybe a rectanlge? Or was it a square? Apparently kindergarten didn't teach you all there was to know about shapes.

"Thought I'd try something new. You know, shake things up a bit." Wren argued indignantly before jumping onto the couch and knocking Cath off balance in the process.

Cath grunted, shoving her sister off of her. "Ugh, you're heavier than you look."

"That is the art of misdirection my dear," She replied with a cherry-lipsticked grin that even Levi couldn't pull off. "Now why aren't you guys arguing? This is serious stuff people! Where are the snarky retorts and bad puns? The blood and the guts?"

"What does she want us killing each over?" Park asked without looking up from the game at hand.

"Never mind her, what are we playing?" Reagan asked, taking a seat on the floor.

"Speed." Levi answered, licking the Dorito dust off all ten of his fingers.

"Deal me in." Reagan ran her fingers through her red hair, (but it wasn't really red. Because nobody had red hair sitting next to Eleanor), and nudged Levi with her elbow.

"Can't, there are no deals in Speed. It's kill or be killed." Levi said, stretching a long arm through the circle to reach the chips.

"You'll have to wait until next round." Eleanor said, slipping a seven, eight, nine, and eight into the stack.

"Slow down!" Park said, flipping his cards frantically for a seven or nine. He pulled out a seven and slid it into the pile.

"You speed up!" Eleanor retaliated with an additional six, five, and four.

"Is no one concerned in even the slightest about our great dilemma here? Or is it just me? The reasonably logical one with a stable mental health?" Wren demanded, her voice prodding into the game.

"It's just you." Reagan muttered, shuffling the cards.

"What's she going on about?" Eleanor asked without glancing up from her cards.

"Just the priemere of _Simon Snow and the Eighth Dance _going on tonight." Levi said around a mouthful of pretzels, (because they were the first thing he could reach from the nearly empty bowl).

"There is no 'just' with Simon." Cath said, flicking her eyebrows up at him. He replied with some eyebrow action of his own, which only made her laugh out loud. Like she wasn't afraid to. And that only made him laugh too.

"Is that the series with the kid who goes to wizard school?" Park asked, his hands hover over the cards with a nervous twitch to his fingers.

"Oh my God, where have you been educated? First of all, Simon is not a kid, he's the chosen one. Second of all, it's called the Watford School of Magiks. And they're not wizards, they're magicians. There's a difference." Wren informed him, her words sharp and dangerous and perhaps even a little menacing.

"What, one has a stick and the other a pointy hat?" Park continued, just to see how far he could push the button before the whole nuclear plant went up in a mushroom cloud.

"It's a wand, and no. Any shmuk can get their hands on a hat."

"I'm pretty sure the difference between a magician and a wizard is that a magician entertains with magic by performing illusions and card tricks, while a wizard practices the education of magic." Eleanor said, crossing her legs beneath her.

"Oh my Lord, you did not just compare Simon Snow to a card-playing, illusion-inducing, entertainer who extracts bunnies from hats did you?" Cath demanded, trying hard to take the offensive approach instead of the defensive.

"You can't hide from the truth." Eleanor told her, easing the words out of her mouth gently as she lay her cards on the carpet. "Like Park, Levi, and Reagan here for instance; they can't hide from the truth of their defeat." She didn't get sloppy after a couple rounds anymore. Because, whenever she felt like she was starting to mess up, she thought of Maisie. Of Ben and Mouse and Little Richie and even Mom. It didn't really help her get better but it kept her from playing worse.

"People, focus!" Wren shouted, (louder than she needed to be but not quite as loud as she wanted to be). "We need to decide on our costumes and we need to do so immediately. Dibs on Penelope."

"I call Baz!" Park spoke up.

"Why should you get to be the bloodsucking parasite?" Eleanor asked.

"Well, there's no way in hell I'm going as Agatha." Park said, slapping his cards down on the top of the pile.

"Don't get so hung up on gender roles." Eleanor said, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Fine," He said, hooking an arm around her waist and pulling her close until she couldn't get any closer. "You can be Baz, and I'll be Simon. I'll slay the moon for you."

And in his ear she whispered, "Not before I slay it first."

She would be the end of him.

* * *

When everyone cleared out, Cath switched on the faucet and let it run as she scrubbed at the dirty glasses and smudged cutlery and stained plates. Levi picked up the trash lying around and dumped in all in a plastic bag before grabbing a towel and wiping the dishes dry.

"Read me something." He said.

"What?"

"Read something to me, I want to hear your voice."

"My phone's dead."

"It doesn't have to be fan fiction." He said, pursing his lips as he tried to think of what there was. And then he thought of it. He dashed up the stairs, taking them two at a time, and disappeared for a minute before returning with_Simon Snow and the Eighth Dance._

"We never read the last chapter..." He spoke the words gently, like he was afraid of cutting open old wounds that never properly healed.

Cath stared at the book like it was radioactive. Like the sky was fallling. Like she couldn't quite grasp the idea of peanuts and butter fitting together in the same jar. Like it was a living thing that she didn't quite know how to handle. Or if she could handle it at all for that matter. She looked like she was afraid it might bite her hand clean off.

"And I figure, if we're going to see the movie tonight, we better finish it while we can."

He was afraid he'd crossed a boundary. A boundary that was put there for a reason. A boundary that wasn't supposed to be for crossing. Like her burned every bridge that stood between them, and he didn't know whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. He felt like he just committed murder - like the murder of Simon Snow - and was smuggled out of the country with the blood still staining his hands red.

The book lay open on the counter. Their page still marked. It was over four hundred pages of spells cast and curses spat. Of danger lurking around every corner with anticipation hiding in every paragraph. But somewhere in those pages was what Cath dreaded most. Was what kept her awake at night like the kid who couldn't get to sleep because of the Boogie man waiting under her bed to come and find her in her nightmares. It was what woke her up in the morning, two hours before her alarm clock went off. It was what pulled at her insides, made her organs twist her into knots, and her stomach churn. Which was why she couldn't bring herself to turn the page. It was what she feared most. But also what she needed most. And maybe this was it. Maybe this was the end. But even if Simon ended. Even if the world of Magiks ended when she read the last words ever written in those books, it didn't mean her world would.

Cath cleared her throat, and took a deep breath before starting, almost like she was expecting the sky to crumble on top of her. She was waiting for the sky to flatten her. She was waiting for the sky to fall, for clouds to shatter with the thunder that never came, and the sun to collapse. But none of it ever happened. So was it crazy of her to still be expecting that when she read the last word? Probably.

But even still, the crazy kept coming. The anger revealed itself in her clenched teeth when the Insidius Humdrum prevailed. The tears flooded her eyes when dear characters were lost. But the smile plastered itself to her face when victory was won. And, once she'd spoken the last word, she flipped all the way back to the beginning and started over again. And over and over and over again. She read that book all the way to infinity and beyond and back again. Water began to fleck the pages as she read, but it didn't really matter. She had more than one copy anyway. And she never ran out of words to say nor write because they were always there. Her words were magic. She just had to find the right ones. And here they were;

The End

* * *

**Well, that's it folks. Crossing The Skies has come to its conclusion. I want to thank everyone for their outstanding support throughout this story;**

**Thank you to my favorites; 2bleu4u, hipsterism, acciounicorn9412, thereadingturtle, fandombox, Nadia . Alvarado . 543**

**To my followers; 2bleu4u, hipsterism, acciounicorn9412, thereadingturtle, fandombox, Nadia . Alvarado . 543, nerd . com, manateeliz10**

**And a very special thank you goes out to all my reviewers; freezeon98, hipsterism, nerd . com, acciounicorn9412, mylifeisfangirling, Beasbeth, Suki, riversong**

**Thank you so much you guys, your support means the world to me and I hope you stay tuned for some of my other stories. I not quite done with Rainbow's characters, I still have some ideas in mind for them. One of the being a crossover of Landline and Attachments, and if you haven't yet read this two books then I highly suggest you go do so right now! And I'm still working on the story about Park's parents too;) other than that, if you like Rise of the Guardians and Frozen crossovers I have written a few Jelsa fanfictions. And I am planning a Fault in Our Stars story about Augustus and the untold story of Caroline Mathers called 'These Fallen Stars'. So if you like Fault in Our Stars, be sure to check it out!**

**Other than that, please please please review because they make me happy and I want to know everyone's thoughts on the ending of course:)**

**Thanks again everyone and happy reading!**

**-birdywings**


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